9:16 pm - Just outside of Toluca County, West Virginia - October 31st


Matthias. Matthias, wake up. Wake up NOW. Said a familiar voice piercing through my head.


Regaining consciousness my heavy eyelids shot open just in time to see the headlights piercing through a veil of darkness from the oncoming pickup truck. I pulled the wheel sharply realizing I'm in the wrong fucking lane. Big mistake. Missing the truck that was barrelling down on me is one thing, now the fucking car is spinning like an out of control merry-go-round. When it stops or where it stops, I guess I'll find out soon.


The car skidded violently, finally coming to rest against a massive oak tree. The impact was immediate and jolting. Shaking off a world that was spinning, I just sat there, dizzy and dazed with no idea how I got here.


I don't even remember getting into a car. Hell, I don't even know whose car I'm in. A shitty, early two thousand Buick Regal. Did I steal this car? I thought to myself. Is it a rental? I pondered for just a second.


I blacked out again. Lost time. This fucking medicine.


Regaining my senses, I need answers. Checking the glove box for any kind of identification, I only find a handgun. A SIG-Sauer P226 to be exact. I'd seen this gun before. Loaded, with an extra clip beside it. It felt strangely familiar. I ran my thumb down the rigid, stainless steel slide as I tucked it away in the back of my pants. I guess I'm walking, I said to myself.


Sliding out of this rundown Buick, an eerie quiet enveloped my senses. An endless fog, thick and unyielding, had swallowed this desolate ghost town.


I fumbled for my phone in my jacket pocket. Finally gripping it, an after effect I'm sure of the dance with death I had minutes earlier, I tap the screen to unlock it. Immediately I can see it - no service. Fucking great, I grunted. I raised my phone above my head as if it would actually catch a ping from a tower.


Of course not.


Where in the fuck am I? I lament, trying to convince myself that there will be a gas station, a motel, literally anything for me to make a phone call to Fowlston to have someone pick me up.








I read the welcome sign out loud. Fitting name I thought until I heard a stillness breaking, sinister roar that faded into the distance. Looking around did no good, the fog was too thick, too relentless. Just as quick as the growling came, it was gone. It has to be the medicine. I could still taste the cocaine in the back of my throat. Fucking coke drip. I am having trouble navigating the all too familiar rough waters of a stomach full of uppers and downers. Swallowing hard, I kept walking.


I'd kill for a decent night's sleep.


I've got to find a place to level out.


As I reached the seemingly empty town, just looking for anywhere to rest my head, to close my eyes, a debilitating paranoia set in. Panic gripping my body, I froze. I squinted as I tried to get a glimpse through the infinite fog. It couldn't be. Yet there she was. Her thin, pale frame, close enough now for me to see. Her shoulder length, sable black hair, the freckles just below her vibrant blue eyes, resting on her cheek bones like spring roses. She was as beautiful as I have ever seen her.


Holly? I called, my voice echoing through the vast emptiness.


Matthias! She trembled, her voice troubled and unsettled. You shouldn't be here.


Where the fuck are we, Hol?


This can't be real. I mumbled to myself.


You shouldn't be here, she reiterated, a sense of dread in her voice. I felt her fear in every syllable - in every word. She was within arms reach now. I grabbed her hips and pulled her close to me. She wrapped her arms around me, an embrace I thought I’d never have again.


There are things here that I can't explain, she whispered, that want to hurt you. That want to hurt anyone that bad luck has drawn to this town. The longer you’re here, the more it takes from you. Those parts of you that make you…you.


What are you talking about, Hol?


It penetrates, it invades, she continued. It feeds on what you fear, the things you desire and everything between. The best AND worst parts of you and uses them against you. She grabbed my hand, interlocking our fingers. I don’t know if any of this is real or just the chaotic musings in the mind of a man gone mad, but she felt real. This feels real.


You have to face what you’ve done. Confront the things you've buried away.


Hol, I face it every fucking day. Every cold minute, every calculating second, why do you think I'm so angry all the time?


These aren't my rules, Matthias. It's this place.


Perfectly in sync with her final word, an alarm started blaring. Penetrating through the quiet like a buzzsaw, stealing our attention.  My eyes darted looking for the source. Didn’t matter. I still couldn't see more than a few feet in front of me.


Matthias, we have got to run. We have to hide. I could hear the terror clinging to the back of her throat. Holly, you know me, I don't run from anything. I said, trying to reassure her. Besides, I have a pistol. I pulled the pistol from the back of my pants hoping it would give her some sense of security. She knew something immediately that would only dawn on me later - why would a dead woman need protection from a pistol? That pistol was to protect me. Or at least make me believe that I had some semblance of control. Where have I seen this fucking gun? I must have said it out loud.


It won’t be enough here. This pla… she took a deep, settling breath, this place is filled with unimaginable, inhuman monsters. Snatching my hand, here, Matthias, follow me. She dragged me through the ever intense fog, navigating it perfectly. Like she’s been here for far too long. She pushed her way through a boarded up door. Without hesitation I followed. Shards of broken glass laid beneath our feet as we entered. She let me pass as she slammed the door.


Is that? Again, I find myself overwhelmed with a debilitating paralysis. Dad? A bitter, piercing chill ran down my spine, one vertebrate at a time. I hadn’t seen the man for years. For all I knew - for all I know, he is dead. He looked the same as he did the day that he left. While I had aged, he hadn’t. Same short, messy haircut. Same sloppy, unkempt clothes.

Dad? I asked again, barely able to squeeze the word past my teeth. He smirked, an evil, wicked smirk.


That’s not your dad, Matthias. Don’t let this place fuck with you. Holly tried reminding me but I was seeing red. The last time that I saw him was just like any other time that I saw him, he was drunk and violent. It was kind of his trademark. Once again taking his anger out on my mother one firm fist at a time. He'd always been a ticking time bomb and he always carried that gun. That pistol. I’d had enough but I wasn’t strong enough then. Strong enough to protect her. Just a boy. Seven years old. I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed a steak knife from a kitchen drawer and drove it into his stomach. That’s when he pistol whipped me. It’s the last thing that I remember from that day. It was the last time I ever saw him.


I am whatever this place needs me to be. The Beast said, calm and steady.


Without thinking, in a fit of pure visceral reaction, I fire two shots. One to the chest the other to the stomach. He just took it. So I fire a third, directly between his eyes. Still, nothing. Put the gun down, son. Those bullets have no effect on me. I didn’t listen. I emptied the clip. The sad young boy trying to take back his life through hollow vengeance, in a world that didn’t make sense.


Are you done?


I dumped the empty clip, quickly loading the other. I aim again but can’t pull the trigger. I just stood there. Pointing the gun, always maintaining eye contact. He didn’t blink. While everything else about him, the hair, the shoes, the clothes were the same - it was the eyes. Those dead, pale eyes didn’t belong to him. Didn’t belong to my father. I felt like the beast was staring directly into the deepest recesses of my mind. He could see things that only I saw. My eyes rolled back into my skull. My breathing became rapid. I was thrust into a memory. The night that I killed Holly. Whatever this thing was, it was making me relive it.


The depressingly bland hotel room, our favorite song playing on repeat. Holly, scissor shaped lying on the floor, across my chest. We fell asleep there. Sometimes we preferred the floor. A reminder of how we both grew up.


I could feel my breathing intensify in pace. Growing sharper, more painful with every labored breath. The deeper I fell into this nightmare, the less I could breathe. The weight of my world on my chest, sinking past my rib cage, clinging to my lungs.


I see myself wake up, or whatever that means in the dream state that I’ve dealt with when my head hits the pillow and my eyes close. I could see myself grab and unplug the stranded wire of the copper lamp cord. I watched myself wrap it around her throat. She woke almost immediately. Aware of what was happening to her, even if I had no idea. She’s trying to get me to release my grip. She’s not strong enough. I am forced to watch as her body goes limp. The life leaving. Her final breath.


I’m forced awake. Back to Silent Hill. Back to the right now. I take a massive breath that brings me back to my current reality. My head is pounding. I open my eyes, tears welling behind them. Still confused I glance at the pistol in my shaky right hand. My hands go numb. I drop the gun. A symbolic realization.




I dropped to my knees. The Beast is gone. It’s only Holly and I. I grab her and pull her close. My head resting on her midsection as she stands above me. I have never gripped her so tight. I am so fucking sorry Holly, I cried, a stream of endless tears cascading down my cheeks. An apology eight years in the making.


We were Bonnie and Clyde weren't we, Hol. Mickey and Mallory. She helped me stand, pulling my face to hers. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to.


Hello? Is anyone here?


I know that voice, I said to Holly.


Hello?


The morning knocking at our window, I looked out to the barren street.


That’s her? Holly asked. The one you've been thinking about. I can tell. I know your type. She's pretty, Matthias.


Stunning, I interjected without putting any thought into who I was saying it to.


You two have to get out of here, Matthias. Before the sun rises. There are cliffs at the edge of this town, you have to take her there and you both have to jump.


Jump?


You have to trust me on this. It'll look like you're jumping into jagged rocks and endless ocean, but you have to trust me and she has to trust you. You’ll HAVE to jump. It's the only way out.


So jump with us, I begged her. It doesn't work that way, Matthias. Take the girl and go. If the sun rises and you're both still here, you'll never get back.


Hellooooo? Her voice boomed through the dense fog.


I stumbled into the street. Being guided by the sound of her voice.


Hey you! I said as softly as I could to avoid frightening her. I'm sure this place had already done a good enough job of that. Still, I was hesitant. Is she real or just a figment of my imagination? Holly said this place feeds on your fears and your desires and I desire her most. Is this place fucking with me again? It's in the eyes. Check the eyes, Matthias, I told myself. She was close enough now. Close enough for me to tell that those were her eyes. Just as striking now as they were the first time that I saw her. She was real and we were both stuck in oblivion.


Hey…she exclaimed, I had to cut her off, time was running out. As much as I wanted the chance to talk to her, just her and I, now isn't the time. The sun is peeking through the horizon and I can't tell how far away those cliffs are.


Look, this is going to sound insane but I need you to trust me when I say what I am going to say. We have to run. She gazed at me only briefly before agreeing. I took hold of her hand, she couldn't tell but beneath my leather jacket, the tiny hairs on my arms stood up. Goosebumps. Without hesitation she interlocked her fingers in mine, our rapid foot falls breaking the silence of this hopeless seaside town. We ran and ran for what seemed like miles but in reality it was only because I was lost in the moment, lost in her.


As we reached the cliff's edge, the biting, briny wind cut through the cold air. Below us, jagged rocks blanketed by crashing waves and the uncompromising and unshakable ocean glared back at us. With my free hand, I pulled her close, lightly gripping the small of her back to pull her close to me. Moving my hand to her cheek, I said with all of the confidence in the world, you have to trust me. She didn't say a word, her hand clutched mine as she lightly nudged her forehead against mine. This woman was perfect was my last thought before we jumped into whatever abyss was waiting for us on the other side.








Of all the lessons that life and by proxy, this business teaches you, humility is the one you can't deny. It latches onto your ribcage and pulls apart the bone until you have to come to terms. I have always been the biggest, the fastest, the strongest person in the circles that I find myself in. I have always been at the top of the food chain. The apex predator.


Sometimes though, there is a reckoning on the horizon. Sometimes though, you have to realize that the reckoning seeks you.


So I stood with bloodshot eyes and broken pride, staring at a hole in my mouth where my molar used to be, courtesy of Johnny Bacchus. Staring at the scars I've acquired over the course of a life that has been anything but well-lived.


Contemplative.


Reflective.


I was finally able to see through my own hubris, my own arrogance, my own vanity. To see through the man that had spent his entire life up to that point, just trying to numb the pain of existence. Through violence and pain and a tongue as sharp as obsidian, I marched through life like a jagged knife. Cutting and slicing away at a world that had deserted me before I even took my first steps. A system designed to oppress, to abuse and to persecute.


At some point in our lives there is a journey that we all must take. A journey to the darkest recesses of our minds. Tonight, with a stomach full of pain killers and an eight ball of cocaine coursing through my bloodstream, I realized that I must make that journey. I need to find the man that came within inches of holding the most prestigious title in this industry. The man that took Ned Kaye to his limit. The man that set this industry on fire when he walked through that curtain for the first time. I'll find him again and it starts at Spooky Savage. It starts with Adam Garcia.


You're an afterthought, Adam. Just a hollow, empty boy with all the talent in the world but no idea how to truly harness it.


We both walked into this place as young, brash rookies, looking to make a name for ourselves. To stand out from the pack. To show the world and that locker room that we weren't just another in a long line of the next generation, doomed to fizzle out because the lights of the XWF are too bright.


Only one of us has done that, Adam. Only one of us wears gold. Only one of us has transcended the title “rookie”. Do you know why they don't say rookie when they talk about me, Adam? Because Matthias Syn has outshined that title.


I went from rookie, to rising star, to Superstar in five months.


While you tout championships in world's far far away from the X-treme Wrestling Federation, I am here, waging a war against every name that has headlined marquees, for the last fifteen years in this industry.


Project Violence? SVO World Champion? I don't even what the fuck that is, Adam. Being world champion of the local VFW or high school auditorium circuit doesn't hold the same sway that you pretend it does, while you bloviate all over Twitter about your “accomplishments”. Defending your “World Title” against out of shape farmers, insurance salesmen and retail workers one Saturday a month, in a forgotten armory, in a shitty little redneck town is only impressive to you, Adam.


But now, you get to fight a real champion. The fucking prototype of this industry. I'm the fucking boogeyman, Adam and I am evolving. I am the grenade in your teeth and the pin has been pulled.


The gap between you and I is cataclysmic. There are levels, Mad Bull and you're not even on the level directly below me. You're not Ned Kaye. You're not Mark Flynn. You're not Johnny Bacchus. You're Razor Blade with an accent.


I’ve got scars I earned way before I ever stepped through that curtain, way before I ever stepped through those ropes. Scars that have driven me to the top of this industry. I'll say it again, I am everything your favorite wrestler wishes they were. Matthias Syn is everything that Adam Garcia wishes he were.


While the friends that you have made in this business sell you empty dreams - dreams of hope, dreams of expectation, I am selling nothing but the cold, hard truth, Adam. You're a stain. A stain on this industry. A piss stain on the carpet of life. With you’re fucking lame “pick me” attitude.


You're a fucking NPC, Adam. Aimlessly drifting through an uninspired life. A bit player in the bigger picture. BORING. Pretending to have purpose so that your uninspiring life can feel to you like it's interesting. A dull life full of placating and pacifying just to appease people who will forget you by the time they take their next breath. Your empty head, filled with hopes you'll never fulfill and dreams you'll never realize. So you fill yourself with excuses and poorly thought out justifications. Content living your life vicariously through the eyes of these slugs who don't give a fuck about you or even care to know your name. You’ll know my name, Adam. You’ll never fucking forget it.


You’ve invited Dracula in.


You looked in the mirror and said Candy man three times.


You answered the fucking phone, Adam.


At Spooky Savage, when that heavy door to that cold morgue closes, and I finally get my hands on you, I need you to know that you're never coming back out.