Title: "Imaginary"
Rating: T (Just being safe.)

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, don't own Silent Hill.

"Mr. Pywamid! Mr. Pywamid! Look what I made!"

I quickly escaped my trance-like state and turned my attention to my left. A small blonde-haired boy, no more than four years-old, clad in blue pajamas smiled widely, two teeth missing, and he proudly held up a sketch book. I leaned forward, adjusting the red pyramid helmet atop my head in order to view his picture.

"WHAT'S THIS, JAMES?" I asked, unable to interpret the colorful scribbles and dots.

James' eyes sparkled happily as he pointed at his picture. "I dwew you, Mr. Pywamid! And this is me!" he explained, moving his index finger to a smaller scribble.

A smile crawled onto my lips and I patted his soft, yellow hair. His head fit comfortably in my palm and I could've easily crushed it, sending red chunks of meat and bone flying into walls, painting them forever crimson.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

"IT'S BEAUTIFUL," I whispered sincerely.

I withdrew my hand back into my lap and I laughed slightly. Slowly, I lay myself onto his bed, continuing my watch on the youngster. A sense of protection pulsed through my veins.

James perked up suddenly, tossing his drawing aside. "Mr. Pywamid, where do you live?" His visage emanated a strong sense of curiosity.

"HMM…" I folded my hands tightly together as I thought about my response. "I LIVE IN A PLACE FAR FROM HERE. A PLACE CALLED SILENT HILL."

The little boy's mouth formed an exaggerated "O"; he gawked in awe. "Will you take me there one day?"

I smiled and took James' small hand in mine, making sure to be gentle. "YES. I PROMISE."


Decades have gone by since that day. The little boy I once knew exists no more. He grew too old for me; his imagination and happiness became tainted…corrupted by fear and guilt. I couldn't find him. His once pure heart called to me, but now…after years of searching, HE came to ME. He approached me, supposedly in search of his dead wife, yet I know he remembered my promise, even if it was locked away in the depths of his subconscious.

"IT'S BEEN A WHILE," I stated, my voice booming in the cramped corners of the prison cell. Before me, on the dirty ground, lay a blonde-haired man with fearful blue eyes. He groped for his flashlight, finding it and focusing the beam on me. "Wh-who are you? What do you want?" he squeaked, his voice shaky.

Quietly, I laughed, stroking the hilt of my sword. "I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU. I KNEW IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU'D SEEK ME OUT, HERE, IN SILENT HILL." The nine-foot blade, held securely in my hand, rose high above my head. I could feel a sudden thrill fill me as the man's heartbeat pounded furiously, fairly audible in the silent room.