Blood Curse @hwbiker - Tumblr Blog

@seekingmockingbirds

She hated that damn city, its fog and the way it was always raining, soaking her clothes, her hair, making everything worse. She hated rainy days and storms, she hated everything there. And she was so, so tired of running from those things, so tired of hiding when the storm came out, so tired of everything that she wasn’t running anymore.

Running, she finally understood, was never an option. That place wasn’t gonna let her go so easily, she couldn’t run from her own nightmares.

But she could put a bullet between the eyes of those things, and she did it, took her gun and, without even blink, fired it twice. And if the kid before her wasn’t as white as a ghost and as green as if he could puke on that very moment over her shoes, she would have laughed of his face full of terror and fear - for her. As things were, however, she didn’t laugh, it was just a boy, a very scared kitten lost in the rain.

"Are you nuts, kid? If you really want to run from those things, you have to put real effort on it, work your damn legs! Otherwise, they will take it as teasing and will rip a new one on you!" She shouted at him, putting her gun on her belt again. "What? Don’t look at me like that, you never saw a lady dripping… from the rain? What a pity. Now, close your mouth, cut the bullshit and listen to me: we have to get away from there before they call for reinforcements, to put this way." But the kid was still looking at her as if she was the real thing to fear on that city. And maybe he was right, but not right now. "What? Let’s go! Now!"

hwbiker

Howard opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He was as stunned by the blasting sound of her gun as by the boom of her voice. Strained noise was all he could muster before following orders, getting off the slippery ground and starting into a run.

At least she spoke English.

Howard made sure to stay near the officer, although having relived his last encounter with a cop over, and over in his mind, he didn't want to. Running past the grassy area from abandoned yards, Howard noticed something rustling in the corner of his eye.

"Hey!" He called to her hoping she would stop. He stood there, in the middle of the neighborhood. He closed his eyes. The pressure of what he saw centered to his temples causing him to hold his head. What he saw, behind those closed lids was the officer, standing next to himself. And with eyes still closed, he turned his head to face another direction and still saw the officer and himself at a different angle. And in another direction, and another, and another.

He opened his eyes.

"They're everywhere." Whoever "they" were.

And they were watching.

#seekingmockingbirds

afraidofstorms

@afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

Fear.

Yeah, sure. It was only logical that the kid – for the first time, Murphy caught himself wondering what was his name – was scared; he had been scared shitless when that damn nightmare began, and if things had changed in the slightest, it was just because his mind was already going numb, while his body had gotten used to it. What had been sheer horror some hours – or maybe days, a whole lifetime – ago, now was mostly a matter of habit.

Now, however, he could hear about it from someone who hadn’t sunk so deep down all that madness, and it was enough to make anxiety find a place in the pit of his stomach again.

Except it was clear the kid didn’t fear just the monsters locked outside.

(And who isn’t afraid of the Boogeyman?)

"Silent Hill, yeah," he replied in a low voice, not even bothering to stop the search. It seemed there was nothing worth finding in that place, but maybe as long as he stayed occupied, the boy wouldn’t worry much about him. "But, uh… I have no idea what those things are or anything, really. I’m about as lost as you."

Giving a sigh, he turned around slowly – no sudden moves around the boy, at least as long as he could avoid them – and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “I was on a bus that crashed right outside town. Haven’t seen anybody but another prisoner and the correctional officer who was travelling with us, since then.”

It was probably for the best, sparing him the details about JP Sater or Bobby Ricks. Hopefully they would find a way out before he had to deal with anything like that.

Lightning struck again, filling the room with that phantasmagorical glow for the briefest moment; still, it was enough for Murphy to notice a detail that had escaped him all this time.

"Hey." He frowned, squinting in the now dimly lit space to see the blood stain on the kid’s shirt. "What happened there?" With a quick nod, he pointed towards the source of his newfound suspicion, shifting his weight.

After everything he had seen, it wouldn’t be surprising if that place could also raise the dead. The same way it was no surprise to notice fear was just starting to crawl under his skin again.

hwbiker

Maybe the man was telling the truth. Why else would it take him this long to kill Howard? Even in his voice, Howard heard nothing but weary and even fear.

Just. His. Luck.

With a crapped out motorcycle ditched somewhere in some damn forest, now he's not anywhere near home. To top it off, Howard was stranded with a man who seemed to know what he was doing, but at the very same time had no clue. Howard believed the other's story.

"Dammit," Howard uttered low as lightning struck, causing him to jump again. He was growing tired of being scared and tried to play it off by moving onto search the other end of the room, letting the tension just go. But he was halted by the man's question.

Howard followed the man's line of sight to his shirt, having forgotten that the stain was still there.

"Some fucking cop shot me," he said simply, though with a bitter, confused scoff. He ran a palm across the bloody mark. "I don't even know."

He remembered it so clearly. The bridge, the sound of the siren, the smell of coming rain. And then he remembered the piercing pain. So quick that shock hurt more. But it was also as if it never happened. That stain was evidence that he hadn't lost his mind just yet. That revelation seemed to have calmed him a bit more.

Howard moved toward the night stand, and opened the drawer there. Again, nothing.

"There's nothing here. Shit." Howard turned back toward the man. If he wanted answers, he was going to have to ask now, while he still had the chance. Just enough to sate his curiosity.

"Hey," he paused a moment before continuing. "What are you-- were you-- in for?"

#afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

@afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

At least now the kid seemed to be willing to listen – and if that was the closest he’d gotten of good news in a long while, he better stick to it. With a disgruntled sigh, he looked around, surveying the area. It made no difference, though; every single street was just the same, wasn’t it?

"Anywhere." Murphy wish there was a better answer, but the truth was that nowhere was safe, and yet venturing into any of those abandoned buildings was still a better option than staying in the open. "C’mon," he called, nodding so the boy would tag along when he started making his way to the nearest house, on a fast striding pace. The door was locked, but it was only a matter of moving on to the next one, until they found a place to hide for a while. As long as they were fast enough to avoid those creepers – and he thought he could hear the echoes of more screams in the distance –, they would be fine.

Well, they would manage.

"Third’s a charm," he muttered under his breath when the door of the third house down the street opened, finding himself somewhat surprised at the fact that there was still some humor left in him. Some sort of coping mechanism, more like. After checking the living room briefly, just to make sure, he let the kid pass and closed the door, leaving behind the storm and whatever creatures were roaming about. He tried the nearest switch, and nothing happened, just as expected.

"Uh, maybe we better search the place. Guess we gonna be stuck here for a while…" The storm still roared outside, the noise still oppresive, even if muffled by thick walls. The dirt on the windows blocked most of the pale daylight, but honestly, they were lucky they could see. "See if we can find stuff like a first-aid kit, a flashlight… Anything that might come in handy." He gave a shrug, not even knowing what he was doing. If there was one thing Murphy Pendleton was hopeless about, it had to be dealing with people. He just seemed to be completely unable to add to anyone’s life, let alone help or keep people safe.

Hell, that boy would probably be better off with those things on the street than staying with him. Every single life Murphy touched, he managed to drag down.

"You should find yourself something you could use as a weapon. If we’re lucky, maybe there’s a gun here, somewhere."

Lucky. He definitely got a way with words.

hwbiker

Still somewhat in shock, and more scared than he would admit, Howard followed the man into a house. When the door was held open for him, he took a step back. With a suspicious eye, he looked at the man first, then walked in quickly.

Howard thought of his options. He looked around for some form of weapon before the man told him to. Something strong enough to defend himself from those things and maybe the man himself if he decided to stop acting so nice.

In the mean time, it was best to follow orders as to not agitate the potential murderer. Howard kept a watchful eye over his shoulder as he pulled opened drawers and cupboards.

Empty. Empty. Empty.

As if each pull of the drawer was a question Howard had in his mind, the nothingness inside was also his answer.

He caved. He just had to ask. At least he didn't have to think of how to ask in another language. "What were those things? Why are we here? Not here. But I mean here. This... what was it Silent Hill?"

What he really wanted to ask was: Are you going to kill me?

#afraidofstorms

#afraidofstorms #wright as rain

afraidofstorms

@afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

It was only a matter of time until he lost track of the boy, finding himself once again on those damned streets, all of his senses clouded by fog and rain. No matter how alert he was now, heart once again racing and sending an adrenaline rush through his body, the town would always seem too eerie to be real, ranging from weird dream to straight-up nightmare.

He should see it coming, though. Even if the kid were just a couple of feet away from him, if that hellhole wanted to claim another victim, it would do it right away.

Or maybe it was just the way it found to drag him back there. From all he learned so far, maybe it was all about that; there was no way to know if the kid was real – even if Cunningham herself was real. More likely not. Thinking back, he could bet she was some personification of a self-expiatory bullshit of sorts, just that little bit of hope needed to keep you hooked.

Sick fucking bastards, whoever they were.

The annoying screech brought him back from his thoughts. Judging by the sound – though he could never be too sure, with the rain even heavier, roaring around him –, the thing should be far enough so he could avoid an encounter, maybe even find refuge in one of the houses with no problem aside from the fact that he was just buying some useless time.

It was the second scream, an unmistakably human one, that got him running towards the sounds – and as he soon found out, they were just around the corner.

There was no need to think nor place for fear anymore. Sad as it was, he was used to those things. If anything, it was a mix of anger and frustration fueling his blows as he swung the wrench once, hitting her straight on the head so she would leave the boy, then again and again, until the goddamn fucker was on the ground, writhing like an insect.

No matter how many times he’d stomp that lame excuse of a face, she still seemed to be smiling, mocking him even after the head was a little more than a bloody pulp. Even after she wasn’t even there anymore.

"Dammit, kid," he grumbled, breathing hard. Lightning ripped the dark sky, filling the street with a surreal white glow.

Soon the place would be swarming with those things.

"We gotta find shelter."

hwbiker

The weight was pulled off his body and his strained limbs fell limp. Even if he wanted to, he could not bring himself to get up and leave. It was as if the screams of the woman-creature infected his body, poisoning his blood, and filled his lungs with shock and dread. The sounds of the world were lost to him and his vision blurred. "Wh- what the f-" he struggled to form a sentence. Any sound he could make would tie him to the conscious world.

Howard finally gained control of his body, sitting up to the sight of the stranger just destroying the knocked over creature with that wrench he clung onto earlier. For a second, Howard saw a murderer, slaughtering a woman. Just for a second. He found himself rooting for the man. Each time he brought down his hand, Howard prayed for the thing to stop moving. And it did. What he didn't expect was the body to tear away into nothingness, like ash in the wind.

Still on the ground, Howard didn't register what the man said to him. He could only focus on the diseased, grease-like substance splattered on the other man. He didn't even realize lightning had struck.

"Shelter?" He mimicked, slow and absent. With one hard blink, he came back. "What the fuck what was that?" He pointed to the empty ground. "Where did it- ?" He didn't even bother finishing his question as put his hands to his head, trying to make sense of it all.

Lightning struck again. Howard jumped. If he wasn't going to die by the hands of a murderer, it would be from a heart attack.That was when he realized he could ask questions later. If he wasn't dead by then. For the moment, he believed he could follow the man that just saved his life. "Uh, shelter, right. Where?"

#afraidofstorms

@seekingmockingbirds

As he ran through the thick of the fog Howard thought two things. One, he was going to throw his fail-of-a-motorbike through the window of the dammed guy who sold it to him. Two, if he was going to die, how would they ever find his body in this shit hole?

It didn't matter. All he knew how to do was run, and that was all he needed to know. But, Howard couldn't tell where he was going. The street seemed to appear only as he moved forward. Then, out of the fog came a large mass that screeched toward him. Howard saw the blue and red glow too late. The police vehicle braked hard, painting dark tire marks on the road and stopped right before Howard... right before Howard ran into it, bouncing off the hood of the car.

The siren whooped once.

Howard rolled over to his side, the shock of the impact hurting more than the impact itself. There was a slight ringing in his ears, but he couldn't afford to focus on that. Why were all these cops trying to kill him? He looked down to his shirt. The bloodied stain of what used to be a gunshot wound that one officer gave him reminded to run. Howard stumbled to his feet, not giving himself any time to see who, or what, came from the driver's seat.

When would he be able to stop running? The question seemed to answer itself, when Howard bumped into a figure. Howard, slipped backwards to prevent himself from running into it, but also in attempt to run in the other direction. But the rain was heavy and he slipped onto his backside.

This is it, he thought. I'm going to die here.

He locked his eyes on the figure's gun at her belt. He survived a shot from a police officer once. Life wasn't so forgiving. He was going to die.

#seekingmockingbirds #((LONG POST SORRY))

afraidofstorms

@afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

The kid seemed to be smart, that much he had to admit – and hopefully that would be enough to stop the boy from setting foot or getting lost in that place.

(For a split second, he wondered if the boy wasn’t just another inhabitant of that place, be it another condemned soul, like DJ Ricks and JP Sater, or one of those who apparently would stick around just for the sake of fucking with his mind.

As long as he didn’t turn up dead, it would be okay.)

The question about cops made Murphy huff in frustration. The kid would never believe him – nor did he have any reason to do otherwise –, and the only cop he met all the time he had just spent in town was supposed to be gone by now. He sure as hell hoped she had already found the rescue team, and the thought of Officer Cunningham being taken back to a safe, sane place helped calm his mind, even if only a bit.

Now, that fucking place wouldn’t let him breathe, would it?

There was a noise in the forest; Murphy cringed, tightening the grip around the wrench, and turned around instinctively, only to realize it was just another murder of crows – as if the first times hadn’t been enough to nearly give him a heart attack.

But if his first instinct was to fight, at least after everything he had just gone through, the kid was smart enough to run away.

… Towards the town.

(Alright, that was a bad move.)

"Hey, no!" Murphy shouted, angry because the boy would do exactly what he has just told him not to, but mostly because he did nothing to prevent him from running straight to hell. "It’s not safe!"

Then again, had he ever managed to save anyone?

When he started chasing after the boy, he already knew it was hopeless.

hwbiker

Shit.

Howard heard the man call after him, but the thickness of the fog turned his voice into a muffled scream. That stranger could have yelled all he wanted, nothing would have made Howard turn back toward the psycho.

Shit.

The fog drowned out all the noise and the silence pierced through Howard's ear drums. The fear in the air made it unbreathable, and no amount of high school baseball could have prepared him for it.

"Fuck!" His lungs hurt and he had to stop, stumbling to decelerate toward a tree. He took deep breaths, his palms on the trunk, looking at his shoes.

A wet drop formed on the concrete. Then another. Then another. Howard felt a coldness drip on his head, down his hair and neck, onto his hands. The bark felt soft and mushy at his finger tips and he cringed before looking to the sky. It was raining. The sky was dark.

Howard sighed a part of him wanted to just sit on the sidewalk of this-- he looked up and realized the town was empty, discarded bottles, broken glass, not a person or savior in sight-- neighborhood. The other part of him told him to keep moving. He didn't get time to decide.

A shadow flashed at the corner of his eye. At first he thought the escaped prisoner had caught up to him, but what he noticed first wasn't an orange jumpsuit. It was hair.

Instinctively, Howard rolled back as iron nails in place of hands swung toward his face, a darkened body fell atop of him. It screamed and writhed around as Howard held its neck to keep it from slashing at his. The young man grit his teeth, transferring all his strength into his arms and legs, moving his shins underneath the torso of--what seemed to be-- a woman and trying to kick her off of him.

#afraidofstorms #((when howard imagined women throwing their bodies at him... this is NOT what he wanted))

afraidofstorms

@hwbiker

afraidofstorms

Well, wasn’t that a good question?

Murphy came to the bitter realization he had no idea anymore. Yes, he had been a family man once, ages ago; a prisoner thereafter, but he seemed to be past that too. A fugitive, maybe, though he couldn’t even tell what he was running from anymore.

His name certainly held no meaning now, and still he would cling to it stubbornly, not willing to give it away so freely.

He took a deep breath, air escaping his lungs in a heavy sigh.

"Listen, I don’t want any trouble, okay?" Knowing there was no sensible answer to the kid’s question, he went with the one thing worth stating. No civilian would feel safe around a convict covered in blood, sure, and even if it seemed pointless, he tried to offer some reassurance. His journey so far had been all about doing pointless things, anyway.

"I’m just tryin’ to get away from this place. And I have no idea what’s up with you, kid, but you better do the same."

That boy couldn’t possibly have been dragged to that hellhole too, could he?

hwbiker

Howard noticed the man's familiar accent. He was American, probably, like Howard himself.. But a convict? Howard didn't expect convict running around the woods of Japan unless... Howard thought about the sign he saw through the man's eyes. "Welcome to Silent Hill" it had said. Something told him he was no longer in Japan.

If the orange jumpsuit-- covered in blood, the monkey wrench in his larged, worn hands-- was telling of the man's status, perhaps there were cops searching for this fugitive, now. However, after getting shot by a police officer, Howard didnt know who to trust. Maybe everything in this fucked up town was backwards. Maybe standing before this man, Howard was already dead.

Inching out from behind the sign, ready to sprint when needed, Howard contemplated running then and there but there was something the convict said that stopped him. The man was trying to escape and told Howard to do the same. Was there something about this place the other knew?

"Where are the cops?" Howard asked as he pointed to the stranger's uniform-- knowing the blood splattered on it did not belong to the man-- though he didn't expect a truthful answer.

But before he could get an answer, a shrill noise came from the forest behind the convict. The trees rattled, and the crows escaped into the overcast sky. Howard only let out a breath of shock before his feet started moving.

#afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

@afraidofstorms

afraidofstorms

It felt like he had been there a lifetime ago — and maybe it really had been. How many times did he die in that town? Wasn’t he already dead when he first got there? It didn’t seem to make much of a difference anyway, not in Silent Hill. And he had no time for time for philosophical bullshit or self-pity, not while she could still be somewhere near. Dead or alive, it didn’t matter; he was going to make sure that Cunningham was miles away from that place. Then he could very well start digging his own damn grave.

A sudden sound coming from the side of the road — a branch snapping or something — was enough to startle Murphy. “Shit!”, he hissed through clenched teeth, turning roughly towards the origin of the noise, holding the monkey wrench in a tight grip, ready to attack. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears, adrenaline rushing through his veins; in one moment you want to be dead, in the next you’re ready to jump at someone’s throat. Whatever was the thing hiding there, it didn’t seem interested in attacking him. Still catching his breath, he tried to focus and think; nothing he had seen in town, none of those freaks, would hide for so long. Alright, maybe those gigantic monsters, but they didn’t even try to hide in the open. Maybe it was a person, after all. Which could be even worse, all things considered. “Hey”, he called out, voice coarse after all the fighting and running and screaming and pleading. He tried to look a little more civil, raising one hand in the universal gesture of surrender, although the other still held the wrench. As if he could look any less menacing with that fucking uniform. “Who’s there? I’m not gonna move, alright? You can come out.”

hwbiker

Howard heard the man turn and within the fog saw his weapon, snapping Howard from his stupor. Howard turned quickly left and right looking for anything nearby that could be used as a weapon. A piece of wood, hanging off the back of the sign, he figured, could do some damage. He placed his both hands over the piece, being mindful to prevent any added noise. Howard held his breath, hands still over the piece of wood, preparing to rip it from its place and bash the man's head in. Except the blood-stained man called out to him first.

Howard's heart beat in his throat. He closed his eyes, and saw a blood-red hued vision of the welcome sign and saw his own legs peeking out from beneath it. The man was looking at him, whose voice that called sounded tired and battleworn-- not the low, suffocating voice that came from the shibito. Howard let go of the wooden plank, but refused to leave his spot.

"だれだ?” Howard stuttered on instinct. He bit his lower lip, forgetting if what he heard was English, or if his mind was adjusting to Japan life so well that everything sounded like English.

He peeked out slowly, then pulled himself behind the sign. A foreigner? Not just a foreigner. A murderer by the looks of it, he thought.

"Who are you?" Howard questioned bravely over his shoulder, his back against the sign.

#afraidofstorms

#Siren #Blood Curse #New Translation #Siren Blood Curse #Siren New Translation

afraidofstorms

@afraidofstorms

He was tired. Fuck, he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, to the point of seriously considering giving up. It wasn’t a matter of taking the easy way out; there was no way out of that hellhole, no escaping from the sick joke his life had been turned into.

There’s nowhere left to run when you’re the boogeyman himself.

He should have known better, though. Why would them — whoever they were — let him leave? If Cunningham was right, and he could bet she was, that town knew him. It knew what he had done, knew all the people he let down, and surely it was well aware that he deserved no forgiveness, no mercy.

A thunder roared in the distance, followed by a closer one, lightning breaking the darkness of the woods around the lake only for a moment. Rain started falling soon after, the sudden temperature drop making chill run down Murphy’s spine. It felt like fear.

He couldn’t bring himself to move, knowing it would be worthless. A sudden thought crossed his mind, however, making him jump to his feet, ignoring the stinging pain in his ribs; what if Cunningham was still there, still trapped? He refused to believe it, clinging to the idea that what was happening to him was a matter of justice, but he couldn’t shake it off. He had to find out what happened to her.

Passing once again by the old gas station, he picked a monkey-wrench in an old toolbox. The road, he soon realized, was now blocked only for those leaving; he could easily walk to town, as if Silent Hill was welcoming him back. And it probably was.

hwbiker

Howard felt like he had been shot and had fallen off a cliff. He woke slowly, the world around him a giant blur. When he turned over onto his stomach and felt the cold, damp ground, he jumped, realizing he had fallen. And he had been shot.

The vision replayed in his head. the murder of a young girl, whose screams were muffled by the sack over her head, then of himself getting shot by a drunken officer.

He looked to his chest, the mark of the wound still there, but the pain itself, nonexistent. He pulled himself to his feet, taking note of his surroundings— trees, trees, and more trees. Stepping to the side, jolting at the crunch beneath his feet, he saw a rundown town in the distance-- its presence swallowed by a thick fog. It different from the village and eerily alluring.

Howard walked toward it anyways, unsure if he should be elated or wary, if the town was salvation or just another fucked up place with a bunch of psychos.

The quietness of the place was unsettling. He closed his eyes and only saw the darkness behind his lids, meaning there was no one around. Where had the people gone he didn’t know, but was thankful that there were no murderers in sight. He moved slowly through it for what felt like hours, feeling cold, alone, and tired. His heart beat rapidly, endlessly. Then a figure came through the fog. His heart raced for a different reason.

"Shit." He cursed under his breath as he ducked in the fog. He pulled himself behind a sign that read Welcome To Silent Hill and watched the figure approach. Howard held his breath, making himself small and quiet, hoping to go unnoticed. But when Howard saw the approaching man's clothes-- blood stained inmate uniform-- and his hand holding a wrench, Howard stepped back in surprise. A branch snapped beneath his feet.

Dread gripped his ankles and his knees buckled.

"Fuck."

#afraidofstorms

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

"My shitty bike that I left back who-knows-where. Shit. I wish I could just ride it home. I'm so sick of this place..."