SILENT HILL 1 soundtrack - The Dead Hand -507 MEGS-
2The story begins in May 1874, in a small village in rural Massachusetts. A village located out on the edge of a vast swamp, just miles and miles of it. As far as the eye could see, there were soggy marshes, endless meadows, mudholes filled with black-tar water, and glistening sheets of wet, spongy peat. Skeletons of giant trees- 'snags,' the people called them- lined the pathways through the fields, their dead branches reaching out like bony arms and claws.
In the daytime, the men of the village would cut the peat with sharp sickles and then haul it back to dry and sell for fuel at the market. But when the sun went down in the twilight hours and the wind, sighing and eerily moaning from across the sea could be heard, the men were quick to leave. Strange creatures took over the swamp at night, and some even came into the village and hid in the shadows, watching- ...that's what everyone said.
Everyone was so afraid, they wouldn't go out alone after dark, even just to visit a neighbor.
Tom Pattison, a man in his mid-twenties, was the only person in the town who didn't believe in the creatures. On his way back home from work he'd yell to his friends, 'There's one!!' and they would jump and run away with panic. And Tom would just laugh and laugh.
One day his friends got angry with Tom and took him aside. 'If you know so much, go back into the swamp tomorrow night and see what comes of it,' one of them said.
'i'll do it,' Tom answered. 'I work out there every single day. Not once have i ever seen anything to frighten me. Why should it be different at night? Tomorrow evening i will take my lantern and walk out to the willow snag. If i get scared and run, i'll never make fun of any of you again.'
The next night the men went to Tom's house to see him on his way. Dark clouds covered the moon, every now and again its bright image would emerge through them and cover the townscape with a white glow. When the friends arrived, Tom's mother was tearfully pleading with him not to go.
'i'll be alright,' he said to her. 'There's nothing to be afraid of, don't be foolish like the rest of them.'
He picked up his lantern and started singing to himself, then he walked out and began heading down the spongy path toward the willow snag.
Some of the men wondered if Tom was right... Maybe they were being afraid over nothing... A few of them decided to follow a distance behind and see for themselves, if he ran into trouble they would have to leave him though... As they walked into the night they were sure they saw dark shapes moving about. But Tom's lantern kept brightly flickering up ahead, and his songs kept echoing in the distance, and nothing happened.
Finally they caught sight of the willow snag. There was Tom, standing in the lantern's light, looking around calmly. But all of a sudden the wind picked up and blew out his lantern. Tom's singing stopped. The men stood still, frozen with fear in the shadows of the field... waiting for something horrible to happen.
The clouds above slowly shifted and the moon came out. They could see Tom again. Only now his back was pushed up against the willow snag and he had his arms out in front of him, like he was fighting something off. From where the men stood, it looked like dark creatures... were surrounding him. Then the clouds blotted out the moon again. Once again it was pitch-black.
When the moon came out again two minutes later, they saw that Tom was holding onto the willow snag with one hand. His other hand was stretched out in front of him, as if something was pulling it. It looked to the men as if a rotting hand with no arm or body to it had grabbed Tom's hand. With one final wrench, whatever had hold of Tom dragged him to the muddy ground.
The clouds covered the moon once more, and the men turned and ran down the pathway toward the village out in the distance. Again and again they lost the way and slogged through the muck and the black-tar water holes. They all eventually made it back to the town, its fiery torches all ablaze. But Tom Pattison was not among them.
The next morning the villagers searched all among the fields and paths that Tom and the men had gone to in the night. They searched and searched until the sun went down and the wind began to wail and howl from across the sea, but they found no one. They had no choice but to give him up for lost.
A few weeks later, toward the evening, the villagers heard a cry pierce the quiet air. It was Tom's mother, she was rushing down the path from the swamp, shouting wildly and waving. When she was sure the villagers had seen her, she turned and ran back. They all ran after her.
Eventually they got to the willow snag, there was Tom sitting in the mud, groaning and gibbering as if he had lost his mind. He kept pointing at something only he could see. His arm was just a stump with dried blood. Nobody knows what happened to his hand except him. And he never spoke another word again.