Post by mob on Nov 7, 2010 19:23:10 GMT -5
My name is Alan Wake. I'm a writer. Before I go into detail about what happened 3 days ago, I must warn you about the consequences of reading into these events. If you are one who believes in a darker side of reality, one who thinks there are creatures in every shadow, close this book and forget it existed. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor. And now we begin.
I was on my way back to my house. My truck glistened in the moonlight of Bright Falls as it sped through the mist of the highway. The road steepened and the pine trees grew higher as I made my way down the side of the mountain.
Bright Falls itself was a peaceful town. It was not a place that was busy, a town that was full of crime, a city that was engulfed by lights and skyscrapers. This was a place where sound itself seemed to disappear into the fog of the mountains that surrounded the small houses that lay on the ground below. It was an Average Joe's paradise. One diner, one gas station, 15 houses, a lake with a house built on the bank, mountains on every side, and a view that people would argue for. An author's heaven.
Winter was well on its way to Bright Falls. It was the only season that anybody who resides there absolutely could not stand. Having been founded in this mountainous landscape, snow was a very common danger to the townspeople. There were years that it would pile up over each house, trapping the people for hours or days until it melted or the plows came in to clear a path. It also gave people fear as it brought ice to the roads. The mountains were the only exit to Bright Falls and the only way out was up the side of them. Of course, my office was up at the top as well. When Winter comes, the people of Bright Falls rarely consider leaving.
I couldn't seem to think straight that night. I had sat in my office for hours on end and nothing came to my mind. Writer's Block had struck me. My worst enemy in the worst season. I didn't seem to pay attention to the road because a man had appeared out of the mist. I swerved into a small tunnel that provided shelter to travelers that were visiting. I tore the door open and ran back towards where the man was standing. He had disappeared. Strange, I thought. I looked everywhere and there was still no sign of him.
I took careful steps back to the truck, looking deeply into the fog that erased my boots. I'm seeing things, I told myself. The man must've been a tree or something that caught me out of the corner of my eye. I took a deep breath and removed my eyes from the ground and once they were, the sight I saw terrified me.
A tall figure stood before me. He was at least 6'2, had a rough-neck beard, wore a red and black plaid shirt and cap, skin decayed and covered in blood, wielded an axe blood-coated at the tip, torn blue jeans, wore no shoes, and flashed an ominous grin. It's him, I thought. The man I had almost hit.
He stared at me with wide eyes, still giving me that grin of an evil clown. The weapon rested between his arm and the slick ice of the road. I couldn't help but think where he had been, what he had done with that axe. I showed him no sign of fear for I was not about to let this man, or any other man that crossed my path, end my life through murder. Our eyes locked and his stare grew colder by the minute, like he was made of darkness and the side of reality some people couldn't bear to think of. Sweat was beginning to run down the side of my neck. The man's grin grew wider as if he were waiting for that exact moment. Then he finally spoke in a voice colder than his stare.
"You don't recognize me do you, Alan?"
My heart almost burst at this. My eyes grew wide and my hands began to shake. How does this man know my name? I tried to gather up the courage to say a few words, but he still grinned at me like any word I said was to be used against me. Then I took another look at him. He oddly enough looked familiar. Not someone I had met in reality, but someone I had met within a dream, or in this case, a nightmare. I have to get away from this man, I shouted from within. I HAVE to.
"No sir. I'm afraid I don't. You must have me confused with someone else."
I tried to pass, but the man slid across the road, back to the exact position to where our eyes met.
"Well, does the Massacre of the Greenwald Family ring a bell?"
Then I froze. Now I knew exactly who this man was. He wasn't human at all. In fact, he wasn't even real. He was the main character of a book called Sound of Silence, one of the first books I had ever wrote. He was a lumberjack bent on the revenge of the Greenwald family, the only customers of his that had never paid him back with respect or money. And it was his biggest job ever. He went on a massacre and killed the family, although too late to escape the arrival of the police who shot him to death. I peered closely at his skin. There were holes every 3 inches across his body. I was in the presence of a murderer. I was in the presence of Ray Colt.
I pushed him aside and made a dash for my truck. I leaped through the driver's window, grabbed my keys, jammed them into the ignition slot, and turned as hard as I could. No result. I cursed at it as loud as I could and jerked my head outside of the window. Colt slid with ease across the ice, letting the axe glide along gracefully, dry blood chipping off the edge of it. He approached the door and sliced the door down with ease. I did not bother to kick him, for I feared he would've grabbed me. Instead I broke the passenger window and scurried out as fast as I could. I landed on my back, staring up at the axe slicing another door. I scrambled off the ground and dashed into the forest.
As I made my way through the dark depths of the pine trees, I stopped at a cliff that overlooked Bright Falls to catch my breath. It was indeed a beautiful sight, the small lights that made it glow around the shadows of the mountains. On the edge of what some people call "Olympus", for it was the tallest of the mountains, there was a lighthouse that overlooked the sea outside of the landscape. Nobody really cared for it, but I thought it was beautiful. I had gone up there sometimes to take my mind off of things and write some small notes or short stories. Maybe that's where I need to go, I thought deeply.
Then I heard a rustle from behind me. I whipped around to see Colt emerge from the trees, still wearing that grin that would frighten even the toughest of men, dragging the axe across the ground.
"I can't let you go home, Alan", he growled gritting his teeth. "I can't let you run off without removing that terrible writer's block from within your thick skull."
He swung the axe downwards at me. I jumped amazingly at the last second, letting the blade come crashing down on the rock I was sitting on. It cut through it like paper. I sprinted through the darkness and jerked my head towards Olympus. The lighthouse, I thought. It seemed like the only place of safety from this madman. I have to reach the lighthouse, I cried from within. I MUST!
BORN TO BE VIIIIIIHIHIHIRAL!