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Silent Hill: Anamnesis is a novel in progress, written by Pancras Kymbal. It concerns the events in Ernest Baldwin's life from the death of his daughter Amy to the events of Born From A Wish. It is based on the concept that Ernest knew about the Sunderlands, Mary's illnes and death and James coming to Silent Hill, and that he deliberately left messages around town for him before and during his visit to the town.

'Anamnesis' is a Christian phrase which attributes to ritual prayer based on the Passion, Resurrection or Ascension of Christ.

Chapter 1Edit

Frank Sunderland had barely gotten himself out of bed before picking up the phone. He was the superintendent of South Ashfield Heights, a complex of small one bedroom apartments in downtown Ashfield, a stereotypical yet dark and somewhat barren town the other side of Portland. Frank, despite being the building’s higher power, was humble enough to allow his tenants to have the more spacious rooms. His; Room 105, at the centre of the first floor corridor; was barely the size of any other room’s kitchen. It featured a counter for food preparation, a small television fifteen years out of date, an airing cupboard with a toilet and shower and a pull-out sofa where Frank sat, slept and kept his phone and the rooms only lamp on a cabinet on one side.

Also on the cabinet was the room’s only furnishing, and one of Frank’s most cherished possessions; a picture of his son James and daughter-in-law Mary on their wedding day, taken at the start of the reception, midday on an August Saturday which, beautiful as it was, was the hottest day on record. Frank could still remember how the blistering sun turned his face a light burgundy, to the other guests’ amusement. That was six weeks ago. The first thing Frank did as he arose to a seven o’clock sunrise was look at that picture. Today was the day James and Mary were coming home from their honeymoon in the nearby resort town of Silent Hill, and Frank would be meeting them at the subway station across the road. He hoped they’d get a place of their own one day, as his generosity had already backfired by the sheer thought of them staying in his apartment.

And this is the point when the phone rang. Whiiirrr whirr. Whiiirrr whirr. This was a simpler age, long before the luxury of ringtones. Frank rubbed his eyes and picked his ears before picking up the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Hello Frank, just wanted to see how things were, what with James and Mary coming home.” Frank knew the voice instantly. It was one he’d heard at the wedding, and apart from that not for ten years before. It was one of Frank’s oldest friends.

“Oh hello! And yes, James called me yesterday. They’ve had a wonderful time.”

“Good, good.”

“How’s Amy?”

“Fine, fine. She’s been taking Joanna’s death better lately, three years, it’s unbelievable. There isn’t a day I don’t miss her, but Amy is my priority now.”

“Hey, remember that room I found the umbilical cord in all those years ago?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well strange things have been going on that room. I’ve been hearing noises, and the cord is starting to stink like hell. A journalist lives there now, haven’t seen him in weeks though.”

“Really? Strange things. What became of the boy who used to knock on the door?”

At this point Frank took a large gulp and shuddered “Apparently, he grew up to be a serial killer, and then stabbed himself in jail with a spoon.”

“Reminds me of that Walter Sullivan guy.”

“Come to think of it; oh gods.”

Frank dropped to the floor.

“It’s the past now Frank, don’t feel guilty.”

“I know, I know”. A tear formed on his right eye, but didn’t drop.

“You want to see my life, Frank. A lot of crazy people at that place. There’s one who, even though I’m a professional, he… gives me the creeps.”

Frank thought about what to say for a minute. Then he looked at the clock.

"Shit!"

“What is it?”

“I have to pick up Mary and James, sorry about that.”

“I’ll see you soon Frank, I hope to anyway.”

Frank put the phone down, got up, dressed, and made his way to the station in reasonable time.

Chapter 2Edit

Ernest Baldwin made his way to through the streets. He was on his way to work, as the director of Brookhaven Hospital. Unlike the more notable Alchemilla Hospital on the other side of Silent Hill, Brookhaven catered to mental health needs; locals called it an asylum. Ernest’s position meant that he’d seen more disturbing, wretched things than the average man. It was only the previous that a patient had pulled a sign down from the hospital wall and attacked him with it. These situations worried Ernest less than they would any other.

As he walked from his home up Nathan Avenue, he couldn’t help but notice something was wrong. The streets seemed to be deserted and a mistand frost unseasonable to late October prevailed. Ernest turned blue in only his suit, and he could barely make out the turning into Caroll Street. It was about this time he started to fear slightly for his daughter Amy, who had gone to school on the other side of the lake that morning. But he walked on until he found himself at the end of the road.

Brookhaven Hospital.

The first strange thing Ernest noticed was that the car park, usually abundant with the motors of hospital employees who couldn’t make the walk, was nigh on deserted. He muttered that they’d gotten a bus, and pushed aside the mirror-like door into the hospital.

The hallway, which normally teemed with life and light as much as a hospital could, was dark, desolate and barren of people. Ernest began to shake slightly; this was the point where he knew something strange was going on. What was stranger still was that night patients and staff seemed absent too; the whole hospital was devoid of life.

They’re probably all in the day room, he thought to himself, as he cautiously walked into his office. He would normally hang his blazer on the back door, but today was different. He was not only freezing cold, he felt he didn’t want to turn his back on anything.

Ernest turned his desk light on. His office was as he had left it the day before. Except…

He tried to put his finger on what had been added or taken away. Then he saw it. A sanguine envelope on his desk, it had a certain ‘glow’ that called to him. He opened it carefully, making sure not to tear it, as it seemed to be made of an expensive parchment, thicker than hemp. And on a piece of paper, written in the same colour as the envelope, were these words:

I SUSPECT YOU ARE FLABBERGASTED AT OUR AWOLLING, BUT IF YOU PLEASE READ, PLEASE MR. BALDWIN, WE ARE M6, MR. BALDWIN SIR, M6, M6, M6, M6……….

‘M6’ carried on to the bottom of page, and as his eyes met the ending, the parchment blazed into tiny ashes right in his hand. The letter described Ernest well; flabbergasted was the word. Room M6, on the second floor. But that’s his room, Ernest thought. Whoever’s room it was, they needed help, and as a responsible director, Ernest knew what he needed to do.

He left his office and walked down the hall towards the elevator. The hospital was as it had been when he arrived, like an abandoned soap opera set. He walked past the doctor’s lounge without thinking twice about it, faced the elevator and called for the second floor.

He stepped inside. There was a distinct smell of rust. This wasn’t unusual, as the elevators had need replacing for a long time, but today it was stronger, an aroma that filled the tight space. Ernest dared not touch the sides for fear of tetanus.

The elevator moved up. Ernest stood in the middle. And then it happened.

The rusty waft filled his sinuses and progressively strengthened. The dirty chrome walls of the elevator become orange with age suddenly, and splattered with blood to boot. The strangest thing however to a rationalist like Ernest was that he was, in fact, moving up to the third floor.

The elevator stopped.

All lights went out.

Ernest was trapped.

“My, my, my, what have we here?”

A maniacal voice was the only sound, like a horror movie villain.

“Soooo, you came to rescue them. I am afraid this is without possibility my good chum.”

Ernest quivered. “Who, what the hell are you?”

“Oh, you know me. You’ve known me a while, Mr. Baldwin Sir.”

“You wrote the letter.”

“Silence!” The scream gave Ernest a near heart attack. “I will not be spoken to by an inferior being. I have the power to control the world, yes I do, yes I do.”

The voice’s maniacal laughter faded out, the light returned and the doors opened.

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