→ dream: oo1
[Warning~ This dream contains spoilers if you have never played Silent Hill 3. Of course, so does her point of cannon and her application, lol. This is slightly altered by a lot, too. WEE~]
Stepping up to the door, Heather hesitated as she stared down at the knob. Something in her gut was telling her that this wasn't right, that she shouldn't go in, but she just wanted to be home. She wanted to be safe, away from all the insanity that she had went through just trying to reach her house. And her dad had been waiting for her after all and she was sure he was worried... But that feeling wouldn't go away. That nagging voice was loud, it was screaming, "Heather, don't go in there. Heather, don't do this!"
"This is stupid," she murmured to herself, reaching out to the door knob. As her fingers brushed across the brass, it immediately began to rust, to fall apart. From where her fingertips lay on the knob, a strange explosion occurred. The door began to decay, the paint on the house began to split and peel. Everything began to look as if it were rusting, decaying, and there was a strange haze to the air. She took a step back, feeling her stomach twist with anxiety, as the house groaned and creaked, looking as if it could fall down at any moment.
She fumbled with the door knob, feeling her heat throb against her chest, and it began to disintegrate in her hands just as she managed to push the door opened. The hinges creaked in protest as the door slumped in its frame. Inside the house was worse. The paint was peeling, the carpet was molded over, and there was a strange, sickly smell to the air. She looked about as she cautiously stepped into the room, pulling her gun from the waistband of her skirt. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing, before she continued onward.
Her dad would be in the living room, her dad would be in his chair. If she could just get to him, then everything would be alright. All of this would just go away. He would tell her why it was happening, he would tell her what to do.
Shuddering, she kicked aside a table, slowly edging her way into the room. She could see the chair, it looked worn, aged, dirtied... Springs and cotton were showing from the back and the strange smell was growing stronger. She swallowed hard, ignoring the voice in the back of her head, and moved around the chair carefully. And gasped.
Her gun fell away from her hand, landing with a loud thump, and she felt her stomach twist sharply. There, in the chair, was her father. But he didn't look like Harry Mason at all, he looked vile, disgusting. As if he were a surgery patient gone completely wrong. His intestines were hanging out, displayed for all the world to see, his face was distorted, not even recognizable with all the gashes and cuts that marred it. Dark blood had seeped through the chair, the carpet, and was staining her boots.
She couldn't scream.
Hot tears welled in her eyes and the strangled whisper escaped her lips, "Dad..." her hands were shaking and she couldn't stop repeating his name. Eventually she was screaming it, "Dad! Dad! Wake up! Dad!!" but he was dead. She knew he was dead, she had no idea why she was trying to convince herself that he wasn't. This isn't how it was when you found him the first time. the voice was suddenly saying, as if this weren't real.
But it certainly felt real.
Pick up your gun.
She moved slowly, as if in a trance, and picked up the pistol. She glanced down at the carpet, at the bloodied foot prints that led outside onto the walkway. She followed them carefully, up the stairs, into another room, where it was just as decayed and and decrepit as before. She felt a white flash of heat strike her as she saw Claudia, that stupid bitch with no eyebrows -- Claudia. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
But Heather knew.
"Did you do this?!" she snapped, gesturing back toward the door. Claudia quirked a brow, head tilting, and Heather found it strange that she was the same as she had seen her the first time. She hadn't been touched by the Otherworld.
"You're late," Claudia said with a sigh.
"But why?!" Heather cried. "Why did you do this?!" the anger was boiling, making her shake, causing her grip on the gun to tighten. If only she could shoot her, if only she could get this all over with.
"Revenge," Claudia shrugged, as if it were no big deal, "from seventeen years ago, for one thing. If it wasn't for Harry, we would have realized our dream. If it wasn't for him, he wouldn't have taken you away from us." again, the strange, absurd things. Heather had never been with Claudia. Heather wouldn't have been with that crazy bitch."But there is another reason," she continued, "to fill your heart with hatred. It must be this way and one day you will understand why. One day you will thank me."
"No!" Heather cried. "No, I will never understand! And I will never thank you."
"You must remember your true self," Claudia pointed at Heather, slowly stepping forward. "You must remember me. You must, for you will birth a God and you will be the one to lead us to paradise with blood stained hands." she smiled. "Besides, he was the one who killed your father..." she glanced back at the creature, who snarled and slunk forward, dragging with it two strange weapons, both of them having ends sharpened to a fine point.
"I'll be waiting for you in Silent Hill."
Heather awoke suddenly, sitting up and taking in deep breaths of fresh air. She glanced around, as if expecting to be in the Otherworld, to find the Missionary boss waiting for her in some shadow or, even worse, Claudia. But she found that she was alone, that she was in the apartment room she had found and that she was, indeed, in the same world that she had fallen asleep in. She swallowed, hands shaking slightly as she reached up to clutch at the silver pendant around her neck.
"Dad..." she whispered quietly, fresh tears in her eyes.
Stepping up to the door, Heather hesitated as she stared down at the knob. Something in her gut was telling her that this wasn't right, that she shouldn't go in, but she just wanted to be home. She wanted to be safe, away from all the insanity that she had went through just trying to reach her house. And her dad had been waiting for her after all and she was sure he was worried... But that feeling wouldn't go away. That nagging voice was loud, it was screaming, "Heather, don't go in there. Heather, don't do this!"
"This is stupid," she murmured to herself, reaching out to the door knob. As her fingers brushed across the brass, it immediately began to rust, to fall apart. From where her fingertips lay on the knob, a strange explosion occurred. The door began to decay, the paint on the house began to split and peel. Everything began to look as if it were rusting, decaying, and there was a strange haze to the air. She took a step back, feeling her stomach twist with anxiety, as the house groaned and creaked, looking as if it could fall down at any moment.
She fumbled with the door knob, feeling her heat throb against her chest, and it began to disintegrate in her hands just as she managed to push the door opened. The hinges creaked in protest as the door slumped in its frame. Inside the house was worse. The paint was peeling, the carpet was molded over, and there was a strange, sickly smell to the air. She looked about as she cautiously stepped into the room, pulling her gun from the waistband of her skirt. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing nothing, before she continued onward.
Her dad would be in the living room, her dad would be in his chair. If she could just get to him, then everything would be alright. All of this would just go away. He would tell her why it was happening, he would tell her what to do.
Shuddering, she kicked aside a table, slowly edging her way into the room. She could see the chair, it looked worn, aged, dirtied... Springs and cotton were showing from the back and the strange smell was growing stronger. She swallowed hard, ignoring the voice in the back of her head, and moved around the chair carefully. And gasped.
Her gun fell away from her hand, landing with a loud thump, and she felt her stomach twist sharply. There, in the chair, was her father. But he didn't look like Harry Mason at all, he looked vile, disgusting. As if he were a surgery patient gone completely wrong. His intestines were hanging out, displayed for all the world to see, his face was distorted, not even recognizable with all the gashes and cuts that marred it. Dark blood had seeped through the chair, the carpet, and was staining her boots.
She couldn't scream.
Hot tears welled in her eyes and the strangled whisper escaped her lips, "Dad..." her hands were shaking and she couldn't stop repeating his name. Eventually she was screaming it, "Dad! Dad! Wake up! Dad!!" but he was dead. She knew he was dead, she had no idea why she was trying to convince herself that he wasn't. This isn't how it was when you found him the first time. the voice was suddenly saying, as if this weren't real.
But it certainly felt real.
Pick up your gun.
She moved slowly, as if in a trance, and picked up the pistol. She glanced down at the carpet, at the bloodied foot prints that led outside onto the walkway. She followed them carefully, up the stairs, into another room, where it was just as decayed and and decrepit as before. She felt a white flash of heat strike her as she saw Claudia, that stupid bitch with no eyebrows -- Claudia. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
But Heather knew.
"Did you do this?!" she snapped, gesturing back toward the door. Claudia quirked a brow, head tilting, and Heather found it strange that she was the same as she had seen her the first time. She hadn't been touched by the Otherworld.
"You're late," Claudia said with a sigh.
"But why?!" Heather cried. "Why did you do this?!" the anger was boiling, making her shake, causing her grip on the gun to tighten. If only she could shoot her, if only she could get this all over with.
"Revenge," Claudia shrugged, as if it were no big deal, "from seventeen years ago, for one thing. If it wasn't for Harry, we would have realized our dream. If it wasn't for him, he wouldn't have taken you away from us." again, the strange, absurd things. Heather had never been with Claudia. Heather wouldn't have been with that crazy bitch."But there is another reason," she continued, "to fill your heart with hatred. It must be this way and one day you will understand why. One day you will thank me."
"No!" Heather cried. "No, I will never understand! And I will never thank you."
"You must remember your true self," Claudia pointed at Heather, slowly stepping forward. "You must remember me. You must, for you will birth a God and you will be the one to lead us to paradise with blood stained hands." she smiled. "Besides, he was the one who killed your father..." she glanced back at the creature, who snarled and slunk forward, dragging with it two strange weapons, both of them having ends sharpened to a fine point.
"I'll be waiting for you in Silent Hill."
Heather awoke suddenly, sitting up and taking in deep breaths of fresh air. She glanced around, as if expecting to be in the Otherworld, to find the Missionary boss waiting for her in some shadow or, even worse, Claudia. But she found that she was alone, that she was in the apartment room she had found and that she was, indeed, in the same world that she had fallen asleep in. She swallowed, hands shaking slightly as she reached up to clutch at the silver pendant around her neck.
"Dad..." she whispered quietly, fresh tears in her eyes.