Categories > Games > Silent Hill > Story's End
Inside the Snail's Shell
0 reviewsCompleate:: A final moment of storytime from one Patient of Brookhaven to another...Art of Moroi can be found at anarchicq.deviantart.com
0Unrated
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Silent Hill, Konami does. ::Soon will have her grubbie li'l hands on a copy of SH4:The Room, and all shall be resplendent:: Moroi Kagyuu belongs to me, just like in the first two chapters. Nothing's changed.
Wanna see what Moroi looks like? Sure ya do! Lookie at the Snailgirl!
http://www.deviantart.com/view/8361952/
http://www.deviantart.com/view/8457058/
Inside the Snail's Shell
A Silent Hill Fic by Q.
Her melted gold coloured eyes remained transfixed on that stoic, emotionless fog that meandered past the glass of the window. The young girl felt the wind from the frantic tenants trying to subdue Leonard Wolfe, murderer.
Murderer. Murderer of Stanley Coleman, her friend. Her only flesh-and-blood friend in this whole crazy, bedlam asylum. She could hear the sirens wailing dully in her ears, the ones that let the nurses know an emergency was at foot. But the young asian girl did not listen, her mind did not register with them, instead, she just stare out the window. Knowing full well that the dolls dressed in fixy-hospital costumes would soon try to get her to leave, Moroi just held her friend's journals closer to her small, cotton covered chest.
Moroi felt something at her shoulder, a strong, heavy, and dangerous claw. The claw of a monster. A guttural, acrid voice whispered in her ear.
"Moroi, time to leave."
"No, Growl." Moroi responded, gaze ever fixated on the world beyond. "I'm gonna wait."
"Wait? For what?" The monster called Growl queried, his own eyes flickering to the courtyard. "Until they drug you, and drag you out by force?"
"For her." Replied the girl sullenly, her nose sucking some fluid which threatened to drip down out of a nostril.
"Her?" Growl's broad shoulders sank. He knew full well who Moroi meant. 'Her'.
'Heather'. The woman of Coleman's delusion fantasies. The monster groaned.
"Moroi, you don't honestly believe that she's real, do you?" That gravelly voice tried to calmly rationalize with his friend.
"Stanley did." To Moroi, that was more then enough of a reason to keep a vigil.
"With no results." Pointed out Growl, looking back at the commotion in the hall. The other patients were yelling now, screaming and laughing at the sirens, the maddening sirens that told them nothing bode well. A crescendoing choir of howls and keens which took up residence in the monster's ear canals. He cringed. "Moroi. Let's go back to your roo-"
Moroi spun, her slanted eyes narrow and burning with an angry ember that snuffed out her normally calm, well-eased gaze. She screamed.
"I am not going anywhere!!"
"Come now, dear, I know you're upset." The nurse coo-ed, already preparing a syringe. Moroi's eyes went from burning red with madness, to wide with apprehension."We know you're upset, but this will make it all better."
Moroi gasped, head turning this way and that, in desperate search for her friend, Growl. Seeing the demonic figment seemed to had abandoned her, the girl gripped onto the hard covered books even tighter, tan coloured knuckles draining to white. She shook her head at the nurse. Torpor, a dreadful thing. That was where Moroi had no control, and her dreams and imaginings could do what they will. She couldn't go into that drug induced coma. It was horrifying there. As if an invisible dam was before her ears, the noises suddenly seemed to swell, breaking the barrier between her mind and the outside world. The screams and shrieks of the wards of Brookhaven spilled into her brain, causing an enthused reaction.
Moroi lent her voice to the cry, letting her voice rip out from the top of her lungs. The nurse jolted, and the little Snailgirl managed to jump over the now occupent-less bed in room S7, and let her bare feet shoot her away from that room. The halls blurred past Moroi in tints of gray, beige and brown as she hurried along, weaving amongst abandoned gurneys and wandering lunatics. The grieving girl darted across the hall, and slammed hands first into a wall. Her hand pounded on a small button upon the wall. The elevator.
With an inviting ding, the doors yawned open, beckoning Moroi inside, which she went with gratitude. Another button was slammed, this one to the first floor. As the doors clamped shut, separating the needle-wilding nurse from the young charge, Moroi let out a puff of paranoid air. She took this brief opportunity to recuperate from the ordeal.
Sliding down to the ground, the young neurotic sat, notebooks ever to her chest, knees to the notebooks. She sniffled again, tears beginning to etch their watery path down her soft cheeks.
"Stanley..." The young, frightened girl hiccupped out a sob as she hugged her friend's mementos.
At least she felt safe. It was funny, in a sad way. The elevator, to Moroi, seemed like her own personal snail shell. She would have smiled if she wasn't so very sad.
The elevator suddenly jolted, snapping the girl from her grief. With a whine of metal against metal, the doors forced themselves apart and open. An ominous sound followed, and Moroi, placing the books upon the elevator floor, slowly rose to her feet. With the over-zealous caution of a child playing hide and seek, the girl tiptoed to the doors, peeking down the halls.
Odd. It was empty. Utterly deserted. The halls were rusted and worn from lack of use. Brookhaven was un-kept, but to Moroi, the dilapidated, dark state of the halls was just wrong. Did the elevator take her forward in time? No, that was silly.
Where'd everyone go? There was always staff walking to-and-fro room to room, scritch-scritch-scritching on their clipboards, yet no one was here. And that meant one thing...
Freedom!
With a blink of shock, and an childish giggle, Moroi retreated back to the elevator's wall. Perfect! She'd casually walk out the doors, and to freedom!
"Let's go find Heather, Stanley." Moroi's eyes turned to the floor, her comment directed towards the neat stack of journals.
But the stack of journals had abandoned her.
July 5th '04 9:59pm
Wanna see what Moroi looks like? Sure ya do! Lookie at the Snailgirl!
http://www.deviantart.com/view/8361952/
http://www.deviantart.com/view/8457058/
Inside the Snail's Shell
A Silent Hill Fic by Q.
Her melted gold coloured eyes remained transfixed on that stoic, emotionless fog that meandered past the glass of the window. The young girl felt the wind from the frantic tenants trying to subdue Leonard Wolfe, murderer.
Murderer. Murderer of Stanley Coleman, her friend. Her only flesh-and-blood friend in this whole crazy, bedlam asylum. She could hear the sirens wailing dully in her ears, the ones that let the nurses know an emergency was at foot. But the young asian girl did not listen, her mind did not register with them, instead, she just stare out the window. Knowing full well that the dolls dressed in fixy-hospital costumes would soon try to get her to leave, Moroi just held her friend's journals closer to her small, cotton covered chest.
Moroi felt something at her shoulder, a strong, heavy, and dangerous claw. The claw of a monster. A guttural, acrid voice whispered in her ear.
"Moroi, time to leave."
"No, Growl." Moroi responded, gaze ever fixated on the world beyond. "I'm gonna wait."
"Wait? For what?" The monster called Growl queried, his own eyes flickering to the courtyard. "Until they drug you, and drag you out by force?"
"For her." Replied the girl sullenly, her nose sucking some fluid which threatened to drip down out of a nostril.
"Her?" Growl's broad shoulders sank. He knew full well who Moroi meant. 'Her'.
'Heather'. The woman of Coleman's delusion fantasies. The monster groaned.
"Moroi, you don't honestly believe that she's real, do you?" That gravelly voice tried to calmly rationalize with his friend.
"Stanley did." To Moroi, that was more then enough of a reason to keep a vigil.
"With no results." Pointed out Growl, looking back at the commotion in the hall. The other patients were yelling now, screaming and laughing at the sirens, the maddening sirens that told them nothing bode well. A crescendoing choir of howls and keens which took up residence in the monster's ear canals. He cringed. "Moroi. Let's go back to your roo-"
Moroi spun, her slanted eyes narrow and burning with an angry ember that snuffed out her normally calm, well-eased gaze. She screamed.
"I am not going anywhere!!"
"Come now, dear, I know you're upset." The nurse coo-ed, already preparing a syringe. Moroi's eyes went from burning red with madness, to wide with apprehension."We know you're upset, but this will make it all better."
Moroi gasped, head turning this way and that, in desperate search for her friend, Growl. Seeing the demonic figment seemed to had abandoned her, the girl gripped onto the hard covered books even tighter, tan coloured knuckles draining to white. She shook her head at the nurse. Torpor, a dreadful thing. That was where Moroi had no control, and her dreams and imaginings could do what they will. She couldn't go into that drug induced coma. It was horrifying there. As if an invisible dam was before her ears, the noises suddenly seemed to swell, breaking the barrier between her mind and the outside world. The screams and shrieks of the wards of Brookhaven spilled into her brain, causing an enthused reaction.
Moroi lent her voice to the cry, letting her voice rip out from the top of her lungs. The nurse jolted, and the little Snailgirl managed to jump over the now occupent-less bed in room S7, and let her bare feet shoot her away from that room. The halls blurred past Moroi in tints of gray, beige and brown as she hurried along, weaving amongst abandoned gurneys and wandering lunatics. The grieving girl darted across the hall, and slammed hands first into a wall. Her hand pounded on a small button upon the wall. The elevator.
With an inviting ding, the doors yawned open, beckoning Moroi inside, which she went with gratitude. Another button was slammed, this one to the first floor. As the doors clamped shut, separating the needle-wilding nurse from the young charge, Moroi let out a puff of paranoid air. She took this brief opportunity to recuperate from the ordeal.
Sliding down to the ground, the young neurotic sat, notebooks ever to her chest, knees to the notebooks. She sniffled again, tears beginning to etch their watery path down her soft cheeks.
"Stanley..." The young, frightened girl hiccupped out a sob as she hugged her friend's mementos.
At least she felt safe. It was funny, in a sad way. The elevator, to Moroi, seemed like her own personal snail shell. She would have smiled if she wasn't so very sad.
The elevator suddenly jolted, snapping the girl from her grief. With a whine of metal against metal, the doors forced themselves apart and open. An ominous sound followed, and Moroi, placing the books upon the elevator floor, slowly rose to her feet. With the over-zealous caution of a child playing hide and seek, the girl tiptoed to the doors, peeking down the halls.
Odd. It was empty. Utterly deserted. The halls were rusted and worn from lack of use. Brookhaven was un-kept, but to Moroi, the dilapidated, dark state of the halls was just wrong. Did the elevator take her forward in time? No, that was silly.
Where'd everyone go? There was always staff walking to-and-fro room to room, scritch-scritch-scritching on their clipboards, yet no one was here. And that meant one thing...
Freedom!
With a blink of shock, and an childish giggle, Moroi retreated back to the elevator's wall. Perfect! She'd casually walk out the doors, and to freedom!
"Let's go find Heather, Stanley." Moroi's eyes turned to the floor, her comment directed towards the neat stack of journals.
But the stack of journals had abandoned her.
July 5th '04 9:59pm
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