?

Log in

15121
22 August 2007 @ 03:15 am
People are dying, but it isn't like before. I don't feel the same mortal fear, even though he is here. In fact, I feel slightly more... present than recently. I can form coherent thoughts, which, seeing my previous state, is a large improvement.

I don't exactly know where here is... I seem to be in 302 sometimes, other times... I'm somewhere else...

...

Where is Henry? I thought... What happened...?

My head is beginning to hurt. I'll write more later.

-J.
 
 
15121
21 August 2007 @ 02:36 am
Henry... I'm always watching...

What am I saying...?

I'm in room 302... Sometimes. Other times I'm here... I can see my shadow but I can't see myself in reflections... In 302 I can see myself just fine... but not here...

What is going on...?

I need to find help... Find a way to get out of 302...

I think I'm going blind... My head hurts...

I hope Eileen is okay... I'm going to go through the hole in my bathroom again. I hope this gets through. Thinking about Eileen helps me focus... I've been worried about her, she has no idea any of this is happening. I still am not sure if I'm crazy or not. But in any case, I need to find out how to get out of 302, and find my real self.

What happened back there? I remember... It was coming out of the wall... And then... Nothing.

Henry...

-J.
 
 
15121
10 August 2007 @ 11:29 pm
I feel like I've been asleep for a long time. I guess I vanished for a while. Is that possible? I don't know anything anymore. My head hurts... It's just like before.

Reading the other blogs, people are getting killed. I don't know if it's Walter Sullivan, but I know he's here.

I'm afraid... But it's not like before.

Where am I?

I can't see...

-J.
 
 
15121
11 July 2007 @ 09:16 pm
I guess in an attempt to solidify my memory, I'll write a bit about myself... At least, myself before... that.

My name is Joseph Schreiber. I'm 39 years old, single- divorced. No kids. I'm tall, sort of looming at times. I shave my head every now and then. I am a very active journalist for Concorde, focusing on local news and human interest pieces. I like fishing and reading, and I have a pretty extensive collection of books and magazines. I don't own a TV- TV journalism is worthless. I'm a little bit of a luddite, as I keep my typewriter that lasted me through college with me, but I have an old laptop that I use for most of my editorial pieces.

I live in room 302 of South Ashfield Heights, a cozy apartment complex. Recently, I've started doing research on the Walter Sullivan case, a case that I started following after I did my piece on Wish House, after one of the people I interviewed was murdered by Walter Sullivan. Recently there's been a copycat killer, using the same MO. Police think it's a copycat, at least- my theory is that the Walter 'copycat' is actually Walter himself, and that the original Walter Sullivan the police caught wasn't the real guy.

-

That was me, at least before what happened in 302. I became locked in, and then everything went to hell. I started having Migraines, and pretty soon it was apparent that I wasn't going to be able to get out- Walter Sullivan was still alive, at least... Partially alive. He was inhabiting 302, possessing it. He locked me in and left me to die, but before I did, I explored his subconscious the best I could- It was the only thing I could do. Holes started appearing in the walls, big enough for me to crawl through. They led to various places in his memory, but they were all distorted and evil. However, I slowly began to gain hope as I found ways to fight against his influence, but in the end, the exposure and starvation killed me. I was just his toy.

But I left notes for the next occupant, and never really left 302. While I was dead, I wasn't fully dead- I was part of the apartment, a ghost if you will, a seed within the monstrous entity that was Walter, and I was able to maintain a presence in 302 through him.

Whether or not I have freewill or if Walter is just willing me to exist I do not know, perhaps some element of guilt or an inability to be rid of me, as I am part of 302 and thus his delusion of his mother. I do think the true Walter was corrupted by something- he had a human side, and seemed to be prone to emotional instability. However, the thing he is now is inhuman, a product of the cult's power, the cult's gods.

I can't help but feel that this was my punishment for shutting down that orphanage, but I stand by my article. The world needed to know what sickness was brewing in that horrific place, and I showed them the real truth, the tangible truth, not some sick distorted religion.

Anyway, what's happened to me now, I don't know. I'm sitting in an abandoned building with my laptop getting a very weak wifi signal, getting a distinct feeling like I've been ejected from 302, at least for the time being.

I don't know about my safety, though. Walter has reemerged, but so has Henry. It doesn't make sense that they are both alive. Also, there's been the emergence of a few of the cult's clergy, who I am hesitant to trust, to say the least. Their value system created an abusive orphanage that used state money to create cultists and a serial killer, all for a dogma that doesn't make sense.

Given the history of Silent Hill, though, I think the bad karma there just needs something to latch onto, and with that cult... Well, any port in a storm. I've read their dogma a bit and met their priests, and it's as goofy as any other cult, but for some reason, this one packs a punch. It can't be real... But it is.

Anyway, there's not a lot I can do right now. I need to figure out what happened to me, and I doubt asking my killer directly is such a good idea, unless I want a clip emptied into my face.

-J.
 
 
15121
10 July 2007 @ 11:44 pm
My headaches have localized into migraines between binges of taking more and more pain pills and trying to drink the pain away. The pain seems to localize in my forehead, then radiate throughout my skull and face. Sometimes I go blind, other times I just see red flashing.

But lately, I've been having some really unpleasant nightmares along with it. I don't know how to take this, I'll figure something out anyhow. I think it's got something to do with 302.

I really would rather not go back to that. It's that cult, Silent Hill, 302, Walter Sullivan...

Henry... Kill...

What am I saying?

-J.
 
 
 
15121
16 May 2007 @ 11:29 pm
302.  
Checked out 302. I managed to get into the door before I decided it'd be a good idea to leave- the smell was overpowering, and the migraine was breaking through the firewall of pain killers I had set up for it. But hey, it's empty, but not in good shape.

Did someone die in there?

They did, didn't they?

Dammit.

-J.
 
 
15121
30 April 2007 @ 12:54 am
I've been studying the archives in the library for all sorts of information on symbolism and the occult, when I noticed, Stanley and Lobsel Vith are nowhere to be seen.

It is a bit quieter without them. But still, I need some help with my headaches, they're only getting stronger, when she was around the pain wasn't as bad, but it's just gotten significantly worse. I keep on having nightmares about 302 as well. It's like I'm going back to the way I was... Furthermore, I want back into 302, although I imagine Walter is still guarding it with his power. I tried to walk near it earlier, and I had to go back and nurse a migraine that had me down for the rest of the day.

And Henry... He's back.

Just what the hell is going on?

-J.
 
 
15121
I've been locked up, writing, and I finally got to a block, I need more information.

If anyone has information concerning the events of Silent Hill between the years 1950 to the present, please visit me. I'm staying in Lobsel Vith's home.

-J.
 
 
15121
15 April 2007 @ 07:43 pm
I guess there are more absurd things.

I've kept my laptop closed for a while, and resorted to writing with a typewriter I was lucky enough to obtain at a reasonable price. In the mean time, the migraines are now headaches, chronic, but not alarming. I guess she does have a knack for these things.

It is nice to shut in for a while, get away from this crazy hell. Still, I come out, and... Singing.

Back to click clacking away.

-J.
 
 
15121
26 March 2007 @ 12:32 am
Well, nobody can say I didn't try.

I decided to give up on everything I had here, which amounted to a park bench, as a psychotic serial killer who murdered me and turned me into a haunted memory stole my apartment, killed the guy who lived there after me, and caused a great deal of chaos.

Frankly, I gave up. I walked away from it all. I gathered a bunch of camping supplies, and I decided to test my boundaries. I then walked through forest, swamp, cavern, and swam through a few rivers. After a long time, I got lost, ran out of food, and got very, very, very cold. I believe I may have frozen to death.

I got turned around at some point, and after wandering in the wilderness, I managed to make my way back here, convinced that there is no realistic way out. It's almost like there's an edge, and you just keep walking into infinity, the forest never stops.

I managed to make my way back, by some miracle. I wonder how many others there are out there, poor souls who tried to escape, only to continue to die of exposure in the wilderness.

On my way back, I lost my left boot in a bog, and walked back with a bare foot, and it became infected. Needless to say, I spent a good portion of the time walking with a makeshift crutch and crawling whenever that became too much.

Finally, the noise of the city came back, and I made my way back in. I don't remember much after that, but I do remember some sort of healer, and her.

I was glad to see her again, but she touched me. I did not like to be touched, nor did I have any want to have any sort of help, as I was in a rather delusional state- I had indeed been walking on a partially gangrenous leg for days.

My leg looks better, but I'm still in quite a shape. I've calmed down a bit, but I need to focus on eating better. Does anyone know any care centers where I can recuperate and restore my strength?

Still, I am desolate. There really is no escape from this place.

It is hell.

So, what's the latest news here that I can dig my journalistic little fingers into? A friend and a hard drink would be nice too.

-J