American Horror Story: A Tale of Terror from Silent Hill

Chapter 14 Diary
As a diary writer who is good at writing down what is in his heart.

Baling decided to reflect on himself, record his life seriously, and strive to write popular works.

In fact, apart from some fictional elements, the rest of his diary is mostly true.

He wrote his diary from the bottom of his heart - he really wanted to live hard.

Therefore, sometimes he likes to tell a little lie, which is also part of artistic creation and a part that must be savored.

"Let me see where I left off last time."

Baling opened the panel of the table and took out a familiar diary, with a pen next to it.

What should I write? How should I write the next record?

After hesitating for a moment, Baling decided to make a decision that went against his ancestors.

He is going to make major changes to the style and content of his diary.

For the sake of storytelling and fun, he decided not to simply write a diary recording his life, but to boldly add some strange experiences.

It's a rare opportunity to come here, I live and die, die and live again.

Who knows, I might die again someday. By then, this diary might be the proof of my existence.

After figuring out how to write it, Baling was inspired and started writing immediately.

There was silence in the classroom.

The only sound that could be heard was the clacking of writing, and occasionally, the sound of pages turning.

……

——October 24, 20XX, continued.

I have met some very bad people who are wolves in sheep's clothing.

I am alone, in a den of wolves.

Faced with a pack of wolves without any moral principles, I tried my best but failed to defeat them and ultimately died.

The flames consumed my body, but my soul still held its head high.

Leaving temporarily is just to come back better.

I'll keep an eye on you, evil cultists!
……

I thought I was going to die, but I didn't.

A leaky container accepted my soul and became my temporary habitat.

In the endless darkness, I heard the howling of wolves. They watched my body disappear, and they were reveling as if they had completed a wonderful hunt.

My soul began to become confused, my consciousness fell into a deep sleep, and I seemed to be sinking continuously, falling into the abyss.

However, there is always a thin thread connecting me, so that I will not lose my way home.

When I was completely desperate, it was my kindness that gave me a glimmer of hope. I am glad that good people will be rewarded.

……

I still remember that November 25, 20XX was Thanksgiving Day.

That winter was very cold.

Because of my poor family background, I was studying alone in another city and did not choose to go home for the holiday reunion.

I still remember that I had very little money in my pocket and was standing on the snowy street. I used all the money I had to buy hamburgers at McDonald's.

In the cold wind, I saw an old Indian wandering the streets. He was wearing a thin coat and huddled in a sheltered place, shivering.

I couldn't bear it, so I went up to him and shared half of my burger. He accepted it gratefully and gave me this weird, ugly, palm-sized scarecrow as a return gift.

Now I have to admit that it was one of the luckiest things I have ever done in my life.

……

After writing about his tragic experience that day, Baling started another article and began to record what he saw and heard in hell.

A Hellish monk with a spiked skull and leather bondage garb, a spider-like, two-faced Thing, a dark, twisted, crawling Snow-White female ghost, a ghost nun with a skull face... and Freddy, the fierce ghost with a burned face, and Jason, the ugly man who returned to the human world with him. Each of these opponents could be considered a horror movie villain, and Baling recorded them all in his diary, from their appearance and body shape to their abilities and special features.

A good memory is not as good as a bad pen. Something is wrong with this world.

While Baling still had some memories, he planned to record all the powerful opponents he had encountered.

Writing and writing.

Suddenly, Baling thought for a moment, and wrote down how he won the resurrection match with great difficulty, how he successfully returned to the human world, and his formal meeting with Alesha, and recorded it all in the diary.

However, in this part, he also used just the right rhetoric to add to the writing.

As time passed quietly, the diary became longer and longer.

He would write down whatever he wanted to write, whatever scenes he wanted to depict, and whatever words he wanted to say.

He wrote frantically, wanting to pour out everything he was thinking.

Gradually, he gained more and more inspiration, and the pen in his hand moved faster and faster, even leaving afterimages, and his handwriting became more and more distorted.

It's more like doodling than writing.

Baling, immersed in it, didn't notice anything wrong, he just felt that he was getting more and more excited.

The blank spaces on the pages were quickly filled in, with grotesque lines drawn in a sloppy handwriting.

But can a diary hold so much?
Baling didn't know and just kept scribbling.

The stooped scarecrow on the table was quietly changing. The rice stalks growing from its left arm branched out into tiny roots, which climbed, pierced, and took root in the diary. In a moment, a crisscrossing root system was formed.

The pale yellow right hand spread out into dozens of straws, like flexible tentacles. The ballpoint pen in the hand was crushed, and the oil-based ink was drunk up by the straw. The light from outside shone directly, and the shadows projected on the ground danced wildly.

Swish!Swish!Swish!
The creaking sound of writing had somehow transformed into a violent and violent friction sound.

Writing a diary is fun!
half an hour.

The air raid sirens wailed.

Baling suddenly woke up.

In the dark inner world, Baling's eyes were wide open, and he looked very surprised.

He stared at the diary lying peacefully on the seat, wanting to pick it up several times, but hesitated.

"this is mine?"

The originally ordinary diary has now changed drastically.

The simple cover of the street stall has been transformed into a high-end product covered with straw patterns, giving off a unique and mysterious temperament.

In a nutshell, this is definitely not the ordinary thing it once was.

The "Baling Diary" written on the outside of the notebook has now turned into strange words that look like some twisted symbols or insects crawling around.

If an ordinary person concentrates on watching, he will immediately feel dizzy.

However, no matter how his appearance changes, Baling always has an intuition, and that is his diary.

A feeling of extreme closeness came from the diary, as if this book was also a part of my body.

Finally, Baling no longer hesitated. He grabbed it and began to flip through the book in front of him.

One page, two pages... The more he flipped through the pages, the more shocked Baling became.

Recorded on it were pictures of various monsters and ghosts, many of which were as he remembered them, and hidden in each picture were words as tiny as insects and ants, recording their information.

Among them, some were known to Baling, while others were unknown to him.

Moreover, the more he came into contact with, the more detailed the information became.

There were some scenes that Baling had never seen before, but they were vividly depicted on the pages of the book.

What the hell?! What the hell is going on?

(End of this chapter)