Ashes

{On the 22nd of August, 2003, a military troop finally investigated a silenced resort town in the American Western coast that had been seemingly abandoned for years. all that was found were decrepit buildings, and the occasional food wrapper with no sign of whether it was broken into by man or wildlife. in one beat up home however, the first and only true sign of human life was located amongst the ruins. a journal of a news reporter for the local area, Collin Winters. After two solid years, the United States government has finally decided to allow the journal contents to be viewed by the public. Whether it is from an unknown, untold piece of American history, or it is simply the ramblings of a mad man, this is what the pages of this journal contain.}


March 4th,
It’s been 27 days since the incident in the coal mines under the town. The ash is still so thick that walking out of the house is like walking through a thick wall of smoke, so thick that it’s almost a struggle to push through it into what remains of the empty buildings, set on a crumbling foundation.

I’m running out of food and I’m lucky there’s still tap water, and Ryan has been gone for two days now. I fear the worst.

March 8th
Today my fish died. It was to be expected, as the filter is broken and, well, there’s nowhere to go to get a new one. It still isn’t safe to go out for too long, though I am happy to say that yesterday Ryan made it home, albeit with a bad cough and a high temperature. The poor thing.

March 9th
Ryan told me today that when he was out he saw some strange sights. Twisted figures in the ash, cars swerved in the streets and parking lots, completely abandoned. What’s happening out there?

I’m still working on getting the TV operating, if there’s anything even on anymore. It may not be much, but if there’s a news station, some guy stupid enough to go out there with a mic and a camera who is even a LITTLE more informed than us, it would be excruciatingly helpful to be in the know. Even just a bit.

March 16th
Thank GOD I finally found this thing! I was starting to go crazy without a journal to record my thoughts in. before this whole fiasco, I was in fact a reporter for a local newspaper, “The National Inquisitor”. Heh, in fact I had just gotten an award for making a major breakthrough on the Thomas Orosco case, something I was VERY proud of. Anyways, I finally got the TV working, but I think it may be broken, cuz half the time it gets nothing but snow. I’ll have to see what I can do about that.

March 17th
Today was a very momentous day! We got a news channel! The old channel 7 station cleared through the static today, and they said they were sending a camera and a few reporters to try and brave the ashes and make it to the neighboring city, Brahms.
When they went, however, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The road they drove down, the road to Brahms.. It was completely gone. The road just ended. It broke off and dropped into nothing.

I looked at Ryan, who was just as shocked and confused as I was, as the reporters stood there, stupefied. After a couple more live-feed hours of driving around to find an exit, the cast and police came to a terrifying conclusion. There was no way out. Every single route followed the same way. The road just vanished, like some sadistic titan from beneath reached out and pulled it down into the center of the earth. With an exasperated look across her face, the news reporter looked to us, the horrified audience, and began to mumble one final sentence when the feed went dead, white noise screeching angrily at us, as if upset we tried to bypass it’s ear-piercing speech.

March 18th
This is a short entry, as I do not have much to say or much time to either. For four hours now we have been hearing strange noises outside. Ryan is mad with paranoia, determined the noises are linked to the ghostly figures he saw outside.
He is nearly as pale as the surrounding fog. It is so frightening, compared to the bright, happy man I knew as my co-worker so shortly ago…

March 20th
Ryan won’t leave again. We are running low on food. Tap is still running however, by some gift from a pitiful god, looking down on us as the Devil himself seems to wrap his fingers around our throats…

I am going to have to go out myself. This is getting ridiculous.

The warm summer air is so achingly cold.

March 20th
My name is Ryan Sterns. Collin will be furious at me for touching his “PRIZED JOURNAL” but I couldn’t care less at this point. He isn’t coming back, not when the things outside find him. I need to get my thoughts out.
Collin is out there looking for food now so we can stay alive in this shithole we call our home now, and as angry as that makes me it only makes it worse because there’s NOTHING WE CAN FUCKING DO. it is maddening to just sit here and pray, pray that this is all some fucked up game show and we can all get out of here soon. Once this is over, I’m getting the hell out of this town and never coming back. Sorry bud, but no friends, no matter how close, are worth staying another second in this damn town.

March 25th
I finally made my way back to the apartment, and I saw Ryan’s little interlude in my journal. It… it deeply disturbs me. I’m not even mad about the situation my friend is in mentally, I’m just scared. What is going on in that head of his? The town was barren the entire time I was out there. There were no spooky monsters or horrors from Toluca Lake. just… emptiness.
Scary enough on it’s own. We are well stocked enough to last us at least a month.

I secretly hope dearly that in some twisted way, Ryan is right. In some abstract, unholy prank this is all a stupid reality TV show or something. But something tells me that we’ll find ourselves in no such luck.

May 1st
I’m finding myself writing less and less in this book. There really is not anything to say anymore…
What happened? Why did I of all people have to get stuck in this? What about Ryan? Were we chosen for this? Where is everyone else?

May 3rd
I saw a plane today. The first one since the fog settled. Where was it going, I wonder?
Why didn’t it stop for us?

May 4th
Ryan has been quiet for three days now. For the first time in forever when I tried to talk to him he responded verbally. He usually would just nod or give a soft sigh and look back down into his laps, fiddling his fingers like he was typing the world’s longest text. However he had no cellphone (it broke 3 months ago on a hike) and even if he had his still, phone service went out months ago. He said “why do you keep trying to talk to me? What’s the fucking point, Collin? We’re both fucked here anyways, just let me die quietly.”

I just don’t want to be alone.

May 7th
It’s getting colder. I mean, for real now. The temperature is in free-fall. I hope it stops soon, Ryan refuses to even budge now and won’t accept a blanket. As much as I wanna just say “fuck this guy” and let him freeze to death, he’s all I’ve got.
If I lose Ryan I really will be all alone. In this hell. Now THAT, is a true nightmare.

May 15th
I saw my son, today. Out there, in the fog. But it wasn’t REALLY him. It.. couldn’t have been… he’s nowhere near this god-forsaken place. Out in Mississippi with mommy dearest, the bitch. He looked so real though… I almost found myself out there chasing him.

May 16th
I see them too. The figures in the mist outside. Ryan… I understand now. I must be losing my mind. This cannot be real. But in some cruel… twisted way… I hope they are real. I hope they are real so that at least I have some sort of paranormal entity to blame this entire fucking situation on. If god won’t save me… maybe the devil himself will have some sort of pity.

May 20th
Ryan has been still now. For a long time. Just… sitting there, completely still. I’m scared to look. Horrified at what I might find if I check Ryan’s face, his pulse… but I have to.

Ryan Sterns is dead. His wrists were slit, and judging by the lumps of flesh under his fingernails… he tore them open with his own bare hands. I feel sick. Vomit is already spattered all over the carpet.. And him..

I’m truly alone now.

May 26th
I finally worked up the balls to get Ryan out of the house… for the longest time I’d just sit there and stare at him.. Hell, the stench didn’t even bother me until today, and I know something’s been pinching my nose since last…. Tuesday, I think? Fuck, I don’t even know what day it is anymore.. Just the date..

It’s the 26th. I know because I’ve slept six times since I last wrote down and that day was marked the 20th.. I think it was saturday then. So the stench started about Tuesday, for sure. Today is Friday.

I miss him.. I have only had myself to talk to for so long. Ryan just sat there and mocked me.. Sometimes I even think his cold lips were fucking SMILING. But I’m probably just angry.. Or finally starting to lose it.
God.. I hope I’m just angry. Loneliness is one thing.. But my mind is all I have left.

May 28th
The smell. I finally got out the smell.
Do you know what dead human smells like? It’s almost psychadelic. It fucks with you.
Gets in your head and tangles your brain.. I had to sit for a minute to clear my thoughts once it was gone.
Good riddance, Ryan Sterns. You and the fucking plague you left me to suffer alone. Not to mention your final gift of that god-awful stench.

May 29th
They are real. Those fucking figures in the mist.. They are fucking real and I fucking pissed myself because one of them came up to the window and…. Christ can’t save us now. Not from these fucking monsters. I need to think straight… what I have seen is fucking real, and now I need to get a grip… Ryan was right. How did those things NOT get me when I went out?
Were they always watching us to begin with?

June 5th
I can feel myself losing it slowly, slowly but surely.
God is gone. There is no god that would allow these things to walk the Earth. They come in all shapes and sizes..
Big, little, from a cockroach as big as a boot to a strapping 8 foot tall man-like beast of muscle. And there is legions of them. Hell itself seems to have swallowed Earth.. And I seem to be the last man alive to figure it out.

Fuck me.

June 10th
Happy Birthday, Daddy… I lived one more year, just long enough to tell you that. And to celebrate, I’ve made myself a present this time.. A nice, strong noose with a big knot to hold me tight, and save me from this evil town.

Ryan knew what was good for us.. He figured it out long before me. I was so wrong to try to keep him here.. How dare I prolong his suffering?

I’m going fucking mad here, every day I wake up and see them peering at me through the windows..
But only some of them have eyes.. Or faces at all. They come in even more forms now. Little doggies.. And spiders.. And big boogeymen.. And some things I don’t even know how to describe other than I would rather eat a bullet than even think of what would happen if they got in and caught me.. So this is it.

I am so sorry.. So sorry to everyone who hoped I could make it. Everyone in my head who was rooting for me, Collin Winters, the brave and charming author to make it through this shitstorm.. No dice. See kids, this is reality.. And in reality, the heroes never really win.
Especially not when literally all fucking hell takes over.

I can hear sirens now.. Hehe. the town must realize it’s won. It is celebrating the fact that I am giving up and taking my own life.
Fuck you, Silent Hill.
Goodbye.

June 28th
SURPRIIIISE!
I know, right? Can ya believe it? It’s me, everyone’s faaavorite news journalist, Colliiiiinnn Wiiinteerrrssss!!

Now last time I wrote in this thing.. I was in a pretty shitty place. I get that. I was so fucking ready to die that it wasn’t even fucking funny. But..
I blacked out and when I woke up I was still alive and the rope was cut. And the door was wide open so I fucking nailed that shit shut. Nuh uh! Ain’t no good gonna come from out in that god damn town.

I was so fucking upset for so long that something stopped my attempt to take my life.. I was so sad that it wasn’t even something a S.O.L. (slice of life for the uneducated audience) reader wouldn’t even get a chuckle.
But… I don’t know. Things changed.
I’m not sad anymore… I don’t even miss Ryan! Or anyone else… except maybe my boy. I hope he’s having all the fun in the world getting spoiled and mentally fucked by his god damn bitch ass mother.

Good riddance.

July 1st
Everything hurts. It hurts to breath. It hurts to move. It hurts to write down how much it hurts..
How did I get here? Where did I go wrong? Did I fuck up some choice, is it my fault I got hand-picked for damnation? I just.. Keep asking myself that. The high I was in for a while died off about a day after my last entry. Now everything just hurts again.. Can whoever is calling the shots here just hurry up and drive my head through the god damn wall already? I’m tired of waiting to die.. Since this town is too cruel to let me.

July 4th
Happy 4th of July, ladies and gents.. Maybe I’ll get the chance to say that if I am lucky. I have seen less and less monsters by the day, and honestly, I think I am starting to care less and less whether or not I do. Fuck this place. Fuck Ryan. Fuck my bare-minimum food supply I’ve still got.. Fuck me.

It’s all or nothing now. I’ve decided that for sure.
I’m gonna pack up my shit and gather up whatever energy-inducing shit I have, and in the morning.. I’m just gonna book it. I don’t have much of a choice. It’s either stay and die or run and die, and at least if I run I know I didn’t have a chance to begin with.

July 5th
Today is the day. I’m gonna really run for it. I’m damn near shaking as I write this…

But just in case somehow somebody else winds up in this shithole, and finds this.. I’ll leave this stupid fucking thing here for them to find. Even if I die, there is the smallest chance my story will still live on, instead of rotting away in some ungodly monstrosity’s belly.

It is early morning now.. I have watched for two solid hours at the window and not seen a thing. I think I’ll run up to Koontz street, see how far that can get me.. If I’m lucky I’ll manage to make it all the way to Bachman Drive, see if somehow, under some final grace, the bridge to Shepherd’s Glenn is still in tact.

I guess this is goodbye old friend.. You’ve been a good journal to me. Thank you so much for listening to my bullshit thoughts, heh… I’m gonna go now.Pray for my safety and that I make it please..

That warm summer air..
Is still so achingly cold…

I’m dead already.