Capítulo 2: One Week Earlier
Annette Ashford sat at her home. Looking at the cardboard boxes that littered the small bedroom floor with a sigh. "I need to quit letting this go. I've got to unpack. No matter what comes at me today. I'm not putting this unpacking off again." she looked around. "But where am I going to start." another sigh parted her lips as she felt what little motivation that she had die as fast as it sprouted to life. "Some coffee and breakfast will help me." She looked at her floor as stray clothes found their way across it.
Annette, a former resident of Shepherd's Glen, moved to Brahms from her parent's medium-sized home. To attend college an hour's drive away from her current home. But Annette had to confess, she wanted this, a life outside of her parent's watchful gazes. She smiled as she walked over to the naked window, as the sun shined through it. Its rays kissed her face. Welcoming her with the sound of a lawnmower running nearby and the sound of cars passing her home. A noise that seemed foreign to her in her previous home. The sound, calling out to her. Calling out for her to enjoy the day and the smell of fresh-cut grass and take a long relaxing stroll in the park. Nothing sounded better to her.
A tall, black man dressed in a blue postal office delivery uniform; brought her gaze to the white decorative mailbox on the decorative black steel post. The man looked to be an elderly gentleman, as gray hair sprayed into his dark hair. His face was hidden by the way he stood and the distance between them. The man was there for a brief stay, long enough to place a large yellow envelope in the box. Then he disappeared once his task was complete. "This is strange." She looked at the round, hot pink floral clock on the wall above the unmade mattress that lay on the floor. It read 9:25 am, "The mail is early today." Annette looked at her attire, a white spaghetti strap shirt and long pink floral pants. She walked over to her mattress, putting her pink house shoes on. Making her way through the small one-bedroom home. Once outside, she walked to the mailbox.
The source of the lawnmower came from her neighbor. A tall, lean man with large black headphones covering his ears. One of the few neighbors that had welcomed her during her first day in this street. She forgot his name, though she remembered he was around the same age as herself, if not a couple of years younger. His attention at the moment was on the music playing and getting the large yard mowed.
Annette opened the mailbox to see the large envelope. Getting it from the box, closing the lid before making her way back into the home. Once she was in the sitting room, she sat on the couch. This was the first piece of mail that she had received since she called this place home. She looked at the front. To reveal it had her name and the sender's town written with fine-handed, large black handwriting. She turned it around, opening the envelope, pulling out a piece of crisp white writing paper. The corners are decorated. With beautiful black prints from the top corners to the bottom corners. But it was the handwriting that caught her attention. It was from the same writer that signed the information on the front of the envelope. She thought of her writing, or what some would call a chaotic scratch. This letter was elegant and looked to be perfect, with no smearing from the ink pen. Thought of the letter written with a calligraphy pen. The writing was flawless. She was mesmerized by the manuscript. That was safe to say. She finally looked at the actual letter reading it out loud:
My Dearest Annette,
My heart yearns to be with you. To have you by my side every waking moment and to fall fast asleep in your gentle, caring arms. But, I must confess, I often wonder if you could love someone like me, a monster. Someone who has done so many wrong things in my lifetime. When I think of your ability to love the man that I am. I have so many questions that enter my thoughts once it comes to you. People try to convince me you are a figment of my imagination. But, you are more than that; you are more; you are real. I implore you, my love, please prove me right get me from this prison. Answer my prayers as only you can, and make our meeting the only way you can make it peaceful and happy. Please allow me to rest easy at night. For you, Annette are my remedy. The only thing that calms my racing thoughts of past sins and wrongdoings, please, Annette. Free me from this prison, take off these shackles and make me a better man.
Yours forever,
Leonard Shepherd
Annette looked at the letter, dumbfounded. The memories of her grandmother's warning her of the town covered in mystery and tainted with the souls. Murdered on its lands by a strange and unknown force. ''Silent Hill, why would anyone know me from there? Why would I even want to go there? Annette wondered to herself as she looked at the writing once more than around the small home. "This is crazy. There is no way that I am going to go to Silent Hill. This man may write pretty, but so do many other stalkers, murderers, and lunatics. The only thing that I can picture living in that town. There is no way on earth I'm going to go, not a chance."
Annette lay the letter on the coffee table. Standing to her feet, she looked at the letter once more with a sigh. "Annette, you're considering going there, no. I'm sure that I need to take a walk and get this madness out of my head. Everything will be fine with an enjoyable walk around the neighborhood." With that, she smiled and went to change into a pair of clean clothes. Getting her pink metallic ten-pound weights in hand. She looked for her phone and earphones and got ready to leave the house to go jogging.
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