A ringing noise rang throughout the apartment, certainly waking the neighbors, but the occupant was not concerned. Wearing his traditional leather jacket and blue jeans, he approached the phone sitting on a table beside the front door. A distinct clicking noise occurred once he grabbed the phone; a nostalgic sound to him, especially during his many writing sessions.
"Dad, it's me." The feminine voiced called from the other side, giving a small chuckle alongside her response.
The man smiled as he recognized his daughter's voice with clarity. "It's so good to hear your voice, honey. Is everything alright?"
"Yeah! Sorry, i didn't call sooner."
"Oh, it's alright. You were probably doing a lot of shopping, huh?"
A few seconds of silence passed. The man was slightly concerned, but was reassured with his daughter's response.
"Yeah, i guess i was. Anyway, i'm coming home now. Oh, i didn't get that thing you asked me to..." His daughter's voice trailed off, almost sounding slightly disappointed.
"It's alright, Heather. Just come home for now, i'll get it tomorrow."
"Ok, dad." Heather responded, her voice more confidant.
"Oh, and Heather, get home safe alright? I love you."
He could hear Heather's smile on the other side of the telephone. "I love you too, Dad."
The man set the phone down back on it's pedestal and couldn't help but feel happy at hearing the sound of his daughter's voice, despite him only missing her for a few hours. It had been many years since that fateful day. Since he received his daughter as a reincarnation of his prior daughter, who he had found on the side of the road.
Harry Mason; 49 years old and living with 17 more years of guilt that he had felt since that fateful day. He still remembered Cheryl's face and who she was, before she disappeared into the mist of Silent Hill, never to return to him as he once knew. The though had always occurred to him, at least once every day. The idea of his actual daughter being lost forever haunted the old man, but he knew his duty. To protect Heather Mason, at all costs.
He kept a tear from falling from his eye and walked back into the living room of his apartment, where a single armchair sat, in front of a tv set with a vhs player. To the right of the television, residing his daughter's room, which he tried not to enter very often. Being a teenager, her privacy was important, but so was her safety. If the cult found her, I would never forgive myself.
Behind the armchair and to Harry's left resided his room, where his current destination lay. He opened the door swiftly and approached a desk in front of him. On the desk was a small journal with an entry that he had written just before hearing the phone ringing. He felt haunted as he looked over what he had written.
His death was coming; Harry could feel it. The cult wanted his daughter and they were going to find a way. He couldn't do anything to protect her when she was away from him. Harry felt frozen as he heard...a familiar sound.
A loud siren played it's disturbing noise and Harry knew what it meant. Before he had a chance, his environment, almost like the flip of a switch, transformed from a normal apartment building into a rusty, blood soaked environment.
"Oh god. It's happening." Harry muttered to himself.
Harry turned around and walked back into the living room, only to see a figure standing beside his armchair. He couldn't recognize her, but she reminded him of someone he once knew. Someone from the misty town all those years ago.
"Hello, Harry. You don't know how long we have waited for this moment, do you?" The woman asked, her British accent feeling domineering to the man.
"You're not taking my little girl away from me. I will not allow that to happen." Harry responded.
The woman gave a small laugh and turned to him. Her pale face almost matched the dreary nature of her white, disheveled hair that fell to her shoulders. That laugh chilled Harry to the bone.
"For 17 long years, we've been looking for you. For taking our only way to bring God into this earth. How could you believe you were doing the right thing? Refusing the world God?"
God. That word never sat well with Harry. That was all he heard from Dahlia Gillespie; God, her savior and his daughter was the catalyst for it's resurrection. Harry stood silent before the woman; he wouldn't tell her a single thing relating to his daughter.
"Fortunately, the end of your life will only bring her to me, Harry. You think you've been protecting her after all this time when in actuality, you've been keeping her from her true form."
Before Harry could move, loud footsteps approached from his front door and with it's close proximity, revealed it's horrifying form. Blades were attached to the creature's arms, and it's disfigured form was unlike Harry had seen prior. The woman pointed at Harry and looked at the creature.
The creature responded almost immediately by charging towards Harry, who simply moved out of it's trajectory. Harry approached his armchair and quickly turned back to the creature, who lunged at him. Harry was much older and not as spry as he once was and the creature pushed him to the floor. Harry couldn't comprehend the agility and quickness of this creature.
It pulled Harry to his feet and the man couldn't fight it. It stabbed Harry in the abdomen and slid upwards towards the man's heart. He fell back into his armchair; his breaths becoming labored.
Almost as quickly as before, the room changed back to the apartment building that he was familiar with. The creature was gone, but a blood trail and fallen in it's wake, leading up to the roof. He thought about Heather as lay dying. His daughter, who he tried to keep safe, would only desire revenge. Giving the cult exactly what they always wanted.
Harry realized his last moments were here; what he had predicted would happen. His eyes fluttered as his head began to droop. His remainder of life, taken away by some creature that he didn't have the agility to defeat. With one final thought, that being of how happy Heather had made him, he fell limp.
Harry Mason was dead.