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04 June 2015 @ 01:17 pm
New story post - Stranger Than Fiction  
Hello. After years of not posting anything on here, I've decided to post a new story on here. This story is titled "Stranger Than Fiction", and is a slight SCP Foundation related fic combined with my SH AU, from Alessa's point of view. The fic references SCP heavily, but the focus is on Alessa and her feelings, and thoughts, and views on the subject. I worked on this fic for only a few days, so it is not polished, and is not intended to be anywhere near my best work. It was just an interesting idea that wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it. ;-D

Title: Stranger Than Fiction
Fandom: Silent Hill
Characters: Alessa Gillespie
Rating: T for some mild language, and disturbing references
Summary: Alessa discovers the SCP Foundation. It is not a pleasant experience.

Stranger Than Fiction

Alessa set down the stories on the screen of her laptop. She had just finished reading the most horrifying story she had read in a while. And considering her life was full of horrifying stories, that was saying something. She had a reaction between being disturbed and wanting to go lie down in a fetal position on her bed for a while. She was caught in a full-blown daze, and wondering how someone could possibly manage to write such an enormous coincidence. Once again, and not for the first time, she wondered what the hell she had been thinking when she decided to open up the stories and follow up on this thread. Sometimes her curiosity just couldn’t help itself.

She had stumbled onto the SCP Foundation. It was an astounding discovery. She had read one of the stories before, the Sculpture, under a separate directory, but she had never followed that to its original archive. Now, on this plainly ordinary day, she was doing research on random creepy stuff, and she accidentally clicked on a link to follow one of the stories to its home archive. At first she was astounded, and then she was horrified. She had shown Lisa the stories, just to make sure she was actually reading what she was reading. Lisa had stared at the stories with widened eyes while she read them, her mouth pursed in a thin line, and then she finished the story; the one that had caused Alessa such consternation. Lisa had stared for a full 10 seconds without saying anything. Neither of them knew what to say. It was obvious she was speechless, and Alessa wasn’t much better off. “Well,” Lisa started, then trailed off. What the hell could she say? Lisa didn’t like this supernatural stuff already, and it was obvious this particular tale, painfully familiar as it was, was really freaking her out. Finally, Alessa decided she had to say something. She couldn’t allow the silence to linger any longer.

“Well, at least I didn’t end up a prisoner inside a government facility,” Alessa said, laughing weakly as much as her heart would allow it. Lisa laughed at the absurdity of the idea, and they laughed together, but it was an uncomfortable sort of laugh. The kind where you had just discovered something that was life-altering, and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Or you had just discovered something unpleasant about yourself, and didn’t know how to process it. The Revelation, that the Earth was a lot more fucked up than you thought it was. So you resorted to humor. Not for the first time, Alessa cursed ever opening up this particular brand of stories. She damn well should have known better.

It had been a new, enjoyable great experience at first. She was astonished at the incredible variety and number of the stories, from reptiles that were hard to kill to coffee machines that dispensed incredibly odd drinks. The stories had it all. 173 was creepy. The idea of a sculpture that could move and kill you in an instant was unsettling, although in the end she supposed that it was just a statue that moved when you didn’t look at it. She enjoyed reading the various stories on the archive, and poured through the different entries on the archive with an unrelenting pace. There were so many stories on the site, so many ideas from different authors, and she wanted to know them all. Some were gruesome, some were funny, and others were just plain weird and amusingly odd. It was a fun experience, and she showed no signs of stopping.

Then she came to 231.

Oh dear God, she was not prepared for that. At first she thought it was just a set of procedures, and she wondered what the big deal was. Then she understood what was going on as she read through it, and the horror it inspired in her left her with no words to describe it. The idea was horrifying. The statement that perverted molesters had to be a part of it left no uncertainty as to what was going on. An adolescent, helpless child, tormented for the rest of her life, by people under the guise of doing it to protect everyone, unable to call for help or even feel anything beyond pain and misery, touched something in Alessa that was deep and reminded her of days gone by. She empathized all too clearly with this girl.

The scary part was that she could have ended up that way. If her family hadn’t rescued her, or Harry hadn’t come to the town that night, or if Cybil had failed to act suitably as their protector, she could have ended up like that. Strapped to a hospital bed for all time, helpless to be rescued by anyone, smoldering in silent agony watching as her own body gave way to grow something inside her that was horrifying and unnatural.

She imagined herself at age 40, still being restrained by the Order. Would they have kept her that long in there? It was a stark possibility with them wanting to take the longest amount of time with her suffering so that when the God was probably born, it would be unstoppable. Was that what awaited this girl? Years and years of suffering, until she finally passed away some 70 years from now. The author said that rape wasn’t involved, that it was worse than that, but considering the nature of the personnel involved, there had to be some sort of sexual molestation involved. And Alessa could imagine several other horrifying things in addition to that, most of them too profane to mention.

And the ironic thing was that the Foundation was playing right into the Scarlet King’s hands. They were trying to contain the parasitic monstrosity inside the girl, but they were only just making it stronger. The poem from the cultists in the article’s documents said so. It was obvious to Alessa that the monster in the girl was feeding off the pain that was being inflicted on her, like a parasite sucking blood off its host. All the pain through the years, it was only contributing to the point that when the child was born, it would be unstoppable from the rage powering it. Alessa understood the process, all too well. It was what the Order’s God had done, feeding off the pain in her misery-filled body like a parasite. The child would be born eventually, and when it was, it would be so powerful from the suffering the Foundation had put the girl through that it would wipe out all the other SCP’s and destroy most of the world, in one swipe. The cultist’s notebooks said so, and Alessa knew that the cult wouldn’t have kept the notebooks in order to help the Foundation deter their objective. The cult would have kept the notebooks on-hand so that when they were discovered by someone, the person would (unintentionally) resume their work. The only reason the cult would delay their god’s birth was to ensure they could make it stronger, not the other way around. Alessa knew how the process worked. She had researched some of the survivors of Silent Hill. There weren’t many, but there were a few, and they found some solace in a group online. She knew some of the survivors had theories about what had happened to each other in the town, and they frequently discussed it with each other. Some of the survivors theorized that the power in the town was just an atmosphere that turned your thoughts into reality, and there was no other supernatural aspect to it. But they didn’t know what Alessa had seen, and endured. She knew damn well the godforsaken thing inside her during that time wasn’t just a ‘manifestation’, or the accumulation of somebody else’s thoughts, or anything like that. It had a consciousness, it was evil, and it had its own will to terribly destroy everything around it. She knew it better than anyone else. It was alive, and it was hungry, just like the thing inside 231.

It was obvious that the creatures described in 231 and the article 2317 were the same entity. The Foundation were wasting all this time trying to contain the offspring, while meanwhile the grown version was left alone because they had no idea how to deal with it. The Scarlet King waited in its confinement chamber, and if its offspring didn’t destroy the world, it would do so itself when it awoke. Either way, the Earth was doomed. Alessa believed it when the suicidal scientist said that the Foundation wasn’t trying to save the girl entrapped in that cell. Based on what she’d read, they had at least 12 or 13 SCP’s that could have destroyed 231 easily. No, they wanted to control it. They were probably hoping that by delaying the birth for so long, by the time it was born, it would be weaker and they would be able to control it and use it to wipe out other SCP’s. They weren’t acting out of a compassionate desire to protect everyone, they were acting out of revenge and a power hungry motive. They were power hungry, wanting to control something powerful. Just like Dahlia and her cohorts.

Alessa considered the situation that had come to overshadow her life. She had often thought about telling everything she knew about Silent Hill to the people out there. She had accumulated more than enough proof of her claims to verify every single thing that she had to say about the town. It was tough to stay silent when people were talking, knowing that she had the truth about God, or that most of mankind’s prejudices were petty and artificially constructed and bore no impact on reality. However, now she wondered what would happen if she did come forward and reveal all that she knew to the public. Would the government come after her for having all that knowledge and imprison her somewhere, for research purposes like a lab rat? Would they actually try to grow the god inside her again, so they could have access to that power? Or would people flock to Silent Hill and begin abandoning their faiths in favor of converting to the ‘true religion’? The possibilities were endless, and none of them were good. Alessa had thought before that it would feel good if she could share what happened with everyone else, that she would possibly be free in some way if she could share the burden with everyone, but now she was seeing the cold, hard truth of what would happen if she came forward with everything she knew. The government would come after her, and try to use her for some special abilities projects. And if they found out about the god that had been inside her, forget it. There was nothing like the excuse of an anomalous creature to give the government reason to do whatever they wanted, for the sake of ‘protecting the public’.

Alessa sighed and settled the laptop down on the table. This story had disturbed her on a deeply personal level. But that was all right. She had had plenty of experience in ignoring stuff that bothered her, over the course of her life. So that was what she would do. It would be easy putting on the performance that this hadn’t affected her. She would joke about it with her family, make occasional references to it with other people, and all around pretend it didn’t bother her. It would be like pretending that she had never read these stories, except as a source of humor. She supposed it helped that the author himself probably did not know what Procedure 110-Montauk was. It was invoking the old trope that had agelessly persisted through stories – nothing was scarier. Still, it didn’t really help that much. She could try to tell herself that it was a work of fiction. But in her private moments, Alessa would know the truth. That this author had touched upon some very sensitive truths that she had been wrestling with for a long time. So she would ignore it, and pretend everything was all right when she was with others. It was par for the course for her life; she had to ignore at least 10 things a day in order to keep some semblance of sane functionality in her life. She knew one thing, though. She knew when something was not good for her, and it was best not to touch it. Although she wanted to know everything about the entries on that site, as much as she wanted to, it was obvious that she just could not deal with some of the content that was maintained on that site. It was too personal; too close to home.

She was never reading those stories again.

Note: Some knowledge of SCP-231 and SCP-2317 may be necessary to fully enjoy this story.

Current Mood: pensivepensive