Silent Hill Novels Novels & Stories

Dear readers, In Sin of Silence there is a character who is non-verbal and uses sign language to communicate. Over the course of a year, I researched methods of non-verbal communication, specifically sign languages. As sign language doesn't mirror spoken language, my intent was to be as authentic as possible. However, I quickly discovered that translating sign language onto the page is very difficult, especially for someone without a background in signing. The word order can be confusing, and the grammar is different from spoken language. I made the decision to go with flow over a straight translation, which is why the signed conversations in this book resemble spoken conversations. The sign

We continue up the hill, but all stop and look down, eyes widening in horror at what lays on the other side. The grass at the bottom of the hill is not the lush green it normally is this time of year, the same as the green we saw coming up. No. Instead it is stained red and brown. Flesh and torn human limbs and remains litter the ground in an almost perfect circle. Pack members at the bottom of the hill, toss more and more clothes and limbs onto the pile. Gathering the human remains to be burned. Iselyn hooks a finger through one of the jeans belt loops and pulls me to her. Then proceeds to tug me a little ways away from the group.

The expanse above us was a gorgeous shade of blue, and if I kept my back to the bruised streaks of violet forcing their way from the south, I could almost forget the impending doom hurtling towards us. "You okay?" Lillith asked, stopping beside me. Her almost waist length hair was down, neatly brushed and pushed back over her shoulders. "Yeah. Tired is all." Tired of running from the Sades and their Shadow Men. Tired of seeing their victories heralded in the darkening sky and the used bodies left in their wake. Tired of missing Nick, of not knowing where he was or if he was even alive anymore and tired of feeling like a pale skinned, violet eyed freak.

She recalled the infamous Howlers whose supposed goal was to realize the reasons behind these occurrences but ended up wasting their time by hunting these vampires that for all they knew weren’t at all existing. “Oh, I met those amateurs, of course. They weren’t any better. Dressed as those under them, they spewed nonsense that barely kept me at bay. If not for their licenses, I’d have thought they were good-for-nothing folks. Unfortunately for their ‘avid’ readers, they graduated from a prestigious university, and this covered up the obvious fact that they were writing a novel more than an article.” The Howlers, in response to Araya’s ridicule, released a newspaper cut detailing their exclu

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated:

Something waiting. --- Determined not to be paralyzed by fear, I returned to the antique bookstore — to the stories, the secrets, the fragments of forgotten women. The elderly owner greeted me with a knowing smile. “You’re searching for answers,” he said quietly. I nodded. He handed me a leather-bound tome, its cover worn but strong — *Reflections of the Forgotten*. “Read carefully,” he advised. “Sometimes the past speaks through shadows.” --- I spent the night poring over its pages. The book told of women trapped in illusions, caught between worlds — ghosts of themselves, struggling to reclaim their true identities.

The same mark of the ancient Guild of Authors. But beneath it... another symbol had been added. A black circle. The First Reader's face turned completely pale. "No..." "An Author has joined the Silence." The lighthouse door slowly opened on its own. Darkness poured out like smoke. Then... a calm voice drifted across the empty shore. "I've been waiting for the next chapter..." "...Adrian." The White Book closed by itself. Its cover changed once more. Only four words remained, glowing in silver. THE SILENCE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING.

The same blade that was seconds ago flying towards me, stuck in between the ribs that protected her heart. Her mouth was slightly agape in a silent cry, a lonely tear slipping from her stony face. Time continued to move in slow motion as I looked on in horror at Nova’s lifeless body in front of me. I shake my head trying to clear the image in front of me, certain that I was now conjuring images before my mind, but the scene did not change. It really was Nova’s body in front of me. “Nova!” Lucien bellowed. Drawing my attention from the corpse.

Little pearls of water clung to his taught, tanned skin making him glisten under the dimmed amber lights of the chandelier. “Oh yea,” Bellamy raised an eyebrow as he noticed where Thea’s eyes were lingering. “What’s it about?” “It’s a reverse harem novel,” Thea smirked at him. Bellamy shot her a crooked grin. “I see how it is, are you wanting to add more players to the bench?” Thea’s breathe caught in her throat as a faint blush crept across her face. Shifting onto her hands and knees, she crawled across the bed, in an almost feline manner, until she reached where Bellamy stood watching her.

My fingers tightened on the edge of the desk. It was fifteen years ago. Fifteen years ago my little sister Wynn had sat by the fence in our garden and said those words and turned my life into a nightmare. Was Jilin trying to tell me that these beasts killed my parents? My friends who never had a chance to grow up? That was ... not possible. A rough, calloused hand came over mine. "Shanks." I shook my head, trying to get that memory out of my brain. "That can not be."