Legacy Name: Cybil Bennett
The Graveyard Kanis
Age: 5 years, 7 months, 2 weeks
Born: March 7th, 2015
Adopted: 5 years, 7 months, 2 weeks ago
Adopted: March 7th, 2015
- Level: 1
- Strength: 10
- Defense: 10
- Speed: 10
- Health: 10
- HP: 10/10
- Intelligence: 0
- Books Read: 0
- Food Eaten: 0
- Job: Unemployed
premade profile by Chen
Edited by me
Edited by me
I'm not sure that I'm going to make it out of this shithole town alive.
This place is overrun with monsters! I followed this man up the road, and ended up crashing my bike. It's wrecked beyond repair.
Not that it matters anyway; my radio was just producing static, and when I turned around to go get help, the goddamn road was out. Like there was a massive earthquake while I was unconscious.
I made it to a small diner, though. Met the man I was following. His name is Harry. He came to Silent Hill with his daughter Cheryl. When I asked where she was, he became frantic.
He swerved to miss a little girl, and when he woke, Cheryl was nowhere to be seen.
I gave him a gun and told him to be careful. It's about time I do something to help someone, instead of just arresting drunks in the middle of the street.
That little girl he saw, though... I think I've seen her, too.
Or maybe it's just the fog getting to me. But I swear there's someone around here...
Which reminds me.
I keep having this dream. It's exactly the same until the end - it gets a little longer every night.
I'm in this long hallway. It's clear that I came from a door behind me, but when I look, there's no door there. A shadow on the wall indicates there used to be a door there, but it's long since been covered in whatever has covered the walls, floor and ceiling of this long hallway.
It looks like ... I don't even know. Everything is red. The walls almost look like they're covered in veins. Which makes no sense, the walls are rusted. The grated area is somehow lighted from the outside, but I see no lights anywhere.
Then there she is. She's small, very skinny and facing in the other direction. I hadn't seen her face until last night.
"Hello? I'm a police officer! I'm here to help you!" I shout to the girl. She still remains at the end of the hallway, unmoved by my outburst.
After I take a few steps, I hear a shrill scream. It's coming from the direction of the girl.
At this point, I'm running towards her, I hadn't realized just how long the hallway was...
Just before I get to her, she turns to face me. Despite her beautiful, flowing black hair, her face and hands, the only visible skin on her, are completely covered in burns. The skin looks like it has started to heal.
She grabs my arm with her right hand, and I erupt into flames.
Despite that, she is laughing. Not crying. And she looks straight into my eyes. The laugh becomes more intense, and deeper.
Deeper yet, and even deeper.
The bloodcurdling scream wakes me up this time, in a cold sweat, even though I feel like I'm on fire.
They say you can't make up the faces you see in dreams. That, even if you don't remember ever seeing it, your brain is recalling the image. But wouldn't I remember seeing someone so badly burnt?
Maybe I'm meant to be here. To save this girl.
I'm sure we will cover more ground if we split up, but something tells me that's not the best idea.
I feel like someone is following me.
the bushes to Cybil's left heave forward and a creature emerges, wobbling on its feet. The feet are pigeon-toed, and it looks as though the body was encased in a second skin, arms crossed in front of the torso.
"What the hell is that thing?!" My fingers have never been so clumsy. Finally, the holster releases with a resounding click and I pull my sidearm out.
"Stop right there!! I'll shoot you!"
The creature won't back off! What is that thing?
I fire a single shot, it clips the knee cap. The thing spits at me. This black goo comes flying out and above my head, splattering all over my helmet and visor. One more shot hits the left shoulder as it advances towards me.
Cybil Bennett is a character from Silent hill, is the inspiration for this pet. I do not claim ownership of her, only this story, written by myself.