|Reviews for Silent Hill 2: Letter From Silent Heaven|
| great except chapter 1 . 8/20/2014
Soda? Its his dead wife hes not gonna care about soda.
| ethan towne chapter 9 . 2/11/2014
very good fan fiction of my favorite silent hill game
| ould kaci amine chapter 2 . 2/23/2013
i'm on chapter 1 , and i'm just worried that it has to end xD damn you did a great job! thank you try to read it silent hill 2 ost's people!
| apples chapter 49 . 12/27/2012
Incredible. I could not stop reading this!
| TeamSilence14 chapter 2 . 8/21/2011
You did a great job with this story! you deserve a reward for this!
I hope you don't mind, but i'm going to base my silent hill 2 story on this one.
It's going to be my first story so... ignore the shitty-ness of it.
The story is going to be a bit different, but not by much. Like I said, I hope you don't mind!
| BTolson23 chapter 49 . 8/11/2011
Well, I was looking for a good horror story to read.
I certainly found it.
I've never played the game or watched it, but now I feel like I've read it. Reading up on the game on the Wiki and comparing it to your story is just marvoulus.
Purely genius. James is an awesome character (With awesome lines and comparisons). You captured Eddie, Angela, Maria and pyramid head with brilliance. Laura? My second favourite (other than James himself). She'sthe sort of girl whose tough.
Really glad you wrote this, really glad I found it, and my hats off to you!
| A-Connoisseur-of-Fandoms chapter 1 . 7/9/2011
So I saw that you wrote a second version of this WITHOUT swearing and stuff. Honestly I prefer the swearing in it as opposed to no swearing at all cause honestly if I were James Sunderland I would be swear a hell of a lot. Anyway your write brilliantly and I hope to continue reading this
| Blue Jae chapter 49 . 6/30/2011
It's twelve at night, and i gotta get up in five hours to catch a plane. I'm bound to be pretty tired tomorrow lol. yet, I know i wont regret it; reading this and finishing this story is well worth the tiredness. it is definetly worth the tiredness.
Silent hill 2 has a story that i fell in love with, even though i haven't played the game. I watched the whole game on youtube and have spent hours on silent hill wiki. I still wanted more, and that was when your story popped up on some forum of some kind. someone stated that there was no english novelization, but your story is just as good.
I have to agree.
you totally encompassed the wonderful story that is silent hill 2. You made James a real human, a human with real fear, real sadness, real etc etc. Games have limitations; they give you something to move around, yet can only show some of the more real stuff in some cutscenes.
I also really enjoy how you make things more realistic; James having his injuries throughout, not carrying a million weapons, etc.
Part of me was afraid you wouldn't have everything that i loved in the story but you did. Every freaking time i see one of the endings of that game i cry. really. i got to the end of this. I cried. really. you added so much good to what was already there. expanding on past dialogue with james and mary. I loved those parts especially. You see them truely in love, and you show how hard mary's death was on james
which brings me to something i also really liked. I loved the beginning. i loved it initially, but when i got to the Videocassete part, it clicked. what you did was brilliant. to help avoid spoilers, he did what he did, and he repressed the memory and replaced it, yet was so sad, so revolted that (even though he didn't know why) he almost killed himself.
also, the ending was really really great.I love what you did with the "leave" ending. personally, it was never really the ending i preffered (I seem to enjoy tradgety, so "in water" was the one for me XD), and therefore really didn't think too much about it, yet you expanded on it and made it a very fulfilling end.
lol and i also liked the connections to silent hill 4.
of course there are a few errors in grammar, and probably a few in spelling, but really, who doesn't have em? with a story this good, i really don't care.
so...i loved this story. so freaking much that i finished it in like two and a half days, and i have what some people might call a full time job. when i get back from my trip, i'll pry read your in progress rewrite. there is more i could say, but i digress; i must sleep sometime i suppose.
in short...AMAZING, AMAZING JOB!
| Ankh Falcon chapter 49 . 3/19/2011
After devouring this novelization, I must thank you for writing this; and you did a very great job at it.
The way you pictured every character is just so nicely done and truthful to themselves.
I specifically adored how you pictured Pyramid Head, which couldn't have been done better. It was simply just Him.
I enjoyed every minute of it all. Reliving it all through words was a different experience and it was welcomed. It was a different powerful vibe. Good work.
| Ganon XD chapter 49 . 3/10/2011
wow ... I just finished this and I thought about reviewing every chapter but I couldn't stop reading. I wish I could go on and on about this but man ... the whole story instantly demanded my attention and I couldn't, and still can't, find a bad chapter. The epilogue, though, is ... wow. Hell, it's perfect to me so there XD I agree with most everyone else who's R&R'd this: Fantastic! I can't wait to read the revisioned version, thank you so much for this wonderful novel, you did Silent Hill 2 justice and beyond.
| Mike Mason chapter 1 . 1/12/2011
Amazing! Extremely well written! Do you think you could actually call Konami and get this published? You should!
| c1 chapter 1 . 12/1/2010
SILENT HILL 2: Letter from Silent Heaven
A novelization by Ryan Usher
For Issy, flower of my heart.
"I Got a Letter"
From the moment it happened, everything was dark for me.
I'm such a mess now. Everything has really gone to shit in my life. I don't know how I've managed to hold down my job, because there are times when I don't bother getting out of bed in the morning. The alarm will go off, and I'll just ignore it. It's not that I'm tired, not at all. Usually I just wake up and just stare at the ceiling, thinking about nothing because my mind's not in the groove. I suppose I do still have a job because my boss is quite a sympathetic person, but it has been three years now and I'm pretty sure even her patience is wearing thin. God knows I know what my co-workers think. It's getting to the point now where they don't even bother waiting for me to leave when they ask each other why I can't just get over it already.
Well, fuck them. None of them know what this is like.
It's not just work, either. I don't speak to my friends anymore. My father actually tried to be a father to me when Mary's illness really started to take a toll on me. Why he did this, I don't know, but after she died, his visits and his phone calls became less frequent in a hurry. I don't know what made him bother. We were never close in my childhood, or even through most of my adult life. He almost didn't even make our wedding. But, when she got really bad, even Dad's presence was welcome. It was human contact, when I was becoming more and more convinced that I was losing that capability. For a good long while, I felt my only friend was the bottle. After she died, the bottle got a lot closer to me. Thankfully, I was able to stop, because even I saw where it was leading.
Nevertheless, life was still a big drag for me. I existed. My body functioned. My lungs breathed, my heart beat, I still ate, still pissed and shit. My brain's more basic functions were just fine. But my soul was gone. It left with Mary when she died. They say your soul goes to Heaven when you die, but my soul didn't wait for me to die. The longer it went on, the worse I felt. Every new day had that dark feeling setting in just another inch or two deeper in my heart.
I guess everything changed when I got that letter, but I like to think it started the night before.
I remember sitting in my bedroom. I still had the king bed. It had been years since I had really shared it with anyone, but I never bothered getting one smaller. I had sat on the edge of the bed, with a shoe box in my hand. In this shoebox was a Colt revolver, with a single speedloader. Six large .357 bullets. I had a slight fascination with handguns in my youth, and I fed this fascination thanks to my uncle Steven, a career police officer. He must have had a dozen different weapons, rifles, a pair of shotguns, an old Revolutionary War musket in working condition, and several handguns. The Colt was always my favorite, and he gave this to me as a wedding gift. I kept in the shoebox ever since. I don't think I ever took it out until the night before I got the letter.
I held the Colt in my hands. It was still as shiny as the day my uncle gave it to me. The mechanisms were still pretty well clean and lubricated, surprising considering how long it had been neglected. I toyed with the gun, dry firing it a few times. Then I slowly removed a bullet from the speedloader and chambered it. I closed the chamber and spun it, like I was playing a game of Russian Roulette. I was laughing. Had anyone else been there, they would have certainly thought I had finally jumped off the deep end.
Maybe I really did, because I then put the barrel in my mouth. I stared at the ceiling, and I looped my finger around the trigger. I closed my eyes and I saw her face again, just like in the photo I still carry in my wallet. That picture of her in the pink sweater. It's her, it's Mary, still smiling at me. God, I love her. I miss her so much. It was the first time in a good long while that I had actually thought so clearly about her, and the grief hammered me like waves, strong and potent even after three years.
I took the gun out of my mouth, dropping it on the floor at my feet. Then I buried my face in my hands and I cried. I cried like a god damn baby. Three years it's been, and yet she still haunts me. My body was racked with sobs, and I felt the strength drain out of me. I fell back onto the bed, weeping tears from my eyes and dripping snot from my nose. I made no attempt to wipe either away. I just lay there crying, until I finally passed out.
It was light when I woke up, still in my clothes. Thank God I didn't have to work this morning, because I didn't really think I was going to stay awake long. I sat up in bed, and I wiped the dry snot from my face. I went into the bathroom, took a long piss, and tried not to look at my reflection in the mirror as I went back to the bedroom.
I picked the Colt up off of the ground, and stared at it, remembering how close I had come to using it last night. It was a game of Russian Roulette after all, with just one player. I didn't know if pulling the trigger would have ended my life. The odds were against it, but I was still quite curious.
I pointed the gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The hammer struck, but instead of a thundering roar, all I heard was the sound of it hitting an empty chamber. No worries then. Without even looking at it again, I placed the gun back into the shoe box and put it back on the shelf in my closet that it had been sitting on ever since we moved in here.
I started walking to the kitchen to get a bite to eat, when I heard a very loud bang on the front door, very loud. And it wasn't like someone hitting the door with their hand, or even with a stick, it was more like someone drove their car into it. The house reverberated and shuddered with the impact. It would have scared the living shit out of anyone, and with me and my hair-thin nerves, well, I know for sure I would have pissed my pants if I hadn't already relieved myself.
I ran to the door, expecting to see it caved in or even knocked off of its hinges, but when I got to it, I didn't see any signs of damage. I looked out of the small window, but I saw nothing, except the stairs leading up to the small porch, enough that a car could not have hit it, certainly not with the force I just heard. Gingerly, I unlocked the door, and pulled it open. It moved with its normal fluidity, and the front of the door showed no damage, not even a slight sign of impact. It was very confusing.
Then I saw the envelope on the ground, lying face down on the welcome mat.
I reached down and grabbed it, then shut the door. I got all the way to the kitchen and had a glass of orange juice in my hand before I even looked at the thing. It was a rather fancy envelope, and small, much like the kind Mary and I used to mail our wedding invatations. It was creamy-white and embossed with floral designs. I turned the envelope over in my hand and looked at the front. What I saw absolutely blew my mind like nothing I had seen before.
My wife's name.
My heart slammed against my chest, and my breathing was quick. Mary! The envelope had no return address. I slid my finger under the seal and nearly ripped the flap off from the force. There was a piece of paper inside, folded into quarters. I pulled it out and unfolded it.
It was a letter. And it wasn't written to Mary at all. Maybe if it was, things would be very different right now. But it was not. It was Mary who wrote this letter. And, it was written to me.
"In my restless dreams, I see that town, Silent Hill. You promised you would take me there again someday, but you never did. Well, I'm alone there now, in our special place. Waiting for you."
Waiting for you. Waiting for me.
No fucking way, Jose. I could not believe this. I CANNOT believe this. Mary is dead! How can she write me a letter? What the hell was all this about?
Never once then did it occur to me that someone could be playing a cruel joke on me. Not once. I knew right away that it was her handwriting, and her words. They seemed terribly familiar for whatever reason, but there was no mistaking this, in my head. My dead wife wrote me a letter.
Reason totally abandoned me. I guess that finally pulled that final guitar string that was my sanity a little too hard and I could almost hear its terrible plucking sound as it snapped. The feeling was sudden and strong, it was like having a good drunk, really.
I had made up my shattering mind to go there. God only knows why, but she said she was there. It was the first dim ray of hope I've had in far too long, there's no way I could ignore it. It was an incredible feeling. I didn't make any special preparations for the trip, just a few sodas in a cooler and a map of the town I kept from our last visit, right before she started getting really bad.
Not even twenty minutes later I was in my old Dodge, at the Interstate 95 junction, heading north towards Augusta, Maine. Once I was a bit north of Augusta, I would take SR 201, which would lead to the western part of Maine. Western Maine has many lakes, the most beautiful of which is Toluca Lake. Around Toluca Lake is the small resort town of Silent Hill. Our special place.
Mary was there. I know it. The letter said so.
| Zahmen chapter 1 . 9/27/2010
I just read through your entire writing and I have to say I was floored by how fantastic it was.
This is written well enough to actually be able to stand aside the game as the legitimate American Novelization, just so you know.
Aside from minor spelling errors and the occasional repeated word, this is a work of art.
Your depictions of the inner workings of James's head and thoughts were flawless, and he felt like a real person rather than a clumsily controlled character sprite on a television screen; the way he moved and reacted to his environment was fluid and realistic and the most endearing theme you used was the fact that any injury he sustained carried throughout the story.
This is a fantastic writing, and it puts a new twist on an already great story. Your ending (without giving it away to people who haven't read it yet) is phenomenal; and the way you tied things together begs for some type of continuation.
Although I want hold my breath for it, I think your writing style and the life you breathe into the characters would make for a fan-fucking-tastic novelization of the 4th game.
It's the most atmospheric game out of the bunch, and you did atmosphere very well in this story.
Thank you for giving me something good to read.
| Djo Djo chapter 1 . 2/6/2010
It was a fun read.
| KaylaKaze chapter 46 . 10/5/2009
Monsters, HOLEs, warp zones. I can handle those. Blue Cross paying for Mary's medical bills? Sir, you overestimate my ability to suspend disbelief.