Someone showed up at my door today.
For the first time in 15 years, I believe. He knocked on the door and made the mistake of walking in. Something told me he wasn't the one even though he was the only one to be able to open the door in 40 years. Except for us of course.
So I let him go.
I know. How am I supposed to ever leave this hell if I just let people go like that?
You sound like my mother sometimes.
Anyway, I'm telling you: He's Not The One.
I could feel this burning sensation in the pit of my stomach again. I was screaming. Alone. Over and over and over again. Like I always do, yet this time, someone yelled back. It sounded like a mix of Anne and Tamara.
It's been a long time but I still remember their voices. Especially their screams.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Hill
Short Story𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 To My Love To The Readers To My Dearests To The People Of The World
