~1965~

Suicide: relating to, or denoting a violent act or attack, carried out by a person who does not expect to survive it.

The idea was incredibly simple, yet infinitely broad. But, in Jack Jasper Jones's case, it was much more vague than that.

"Anything else for you, Mr. Jones?" The stewardess asked, leaning down to address him over the rumbling of the train.

The author jumped, slightly, and cast a furtive glance in her direction.

"No, thank you," Jasper replied, settling back down with a smile. Just a small one. Enough that he wouldn't seem impolite, but not enough to insinuate that he gained any pleasure from this excursion.

He wasn't doing this for fun, the exact opposite, actually. He may have only been thirty years old, but this voyage was one Jasper didn't truly expect to survive. Not fully, at least.

Yet, he really didn't have a choice. After his grandfather's death, Jasper was the only one in his family who had the time (or the money) to clear out the old house in Riverside, Tennessee.

If it wasn't for the promises he made, Jones might never have went back home. Not after how it had ended last time. With Finley, and Jake... and especially Connie.

Jasper sighed audibly, and closed his notebook with a sharp snap. Readers would just have to wait and see what happened between Madeline and the Lizard Man, after dropping into the deep abyss. Because there was no way he could possibly focus on writing an enthralling story, with so much on his mind. He knew he just wouldn't be able to do it the justice they so dearly deserve.

Those people's commitment is what carried Mr. Jones after heading out on his own. Their support kept a roof over his head long enough for him to put a story book over their hearts. It would be a sin for him to feed them a half baked story now. Jones's books were not his life. His fans were. He was doing this for them.

It might kill him, but he was going back for them.

Hell, one day this might make a book of it's own... He thought, grimly. Hopefully one with a happy ending.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"We're pulling in folks!" The conductor hollered. "Everyone for Riverside, hop off!"

Exactly as expected, Jasper found himself to be the only person who rose from his seat and grabbed his bags. Riverside was the kind of place you left, not the other way around. It wouldn't have surprised him in the least if the railing on the entrance ramp had rusted entirely over years of no use.

"Thank you," he muttered, generously tipping the stewardess with a fresh, crisp, bill. "Good day,"

"Good day, Mr. Jones," she beamed, clinging to the money like a life raft. "I love your books, so much. I own them all at home. I must ask though..."

Jasper turned to face his adoring fan, with all the patience in the world. It's not as if he was eager to dive backwards into all the memories that awaited him outside.

"It's just..." She took a deep breath and shrugged. "Just that, your characters all seem so lively, and excited. I thought..." She hesitated again.

"You thought they were mirrors of myself," Jasper finished for her.

"Yes," the stewardess exhaled, relieved that her hero didn't seem offended by her inquiries. "Yes, exactly. You're much more thoughtful than I would have imagined,"

"If I was as busy as my characters, having adventures, there would be no one left to write them," Jones smiled. He turned to the door, and stepped out onto the platform.

"Might I ask," she called out, once more. "What are you in the middle of nowhere for? Are you researching another story?"

Jasper gazed around the station, and felt the memories creeping back to him. He turned around, half of him wanting nothing more than to climb back aboard the train and take it as far as it would go. Away from here.

The other half just tipped his hat in the direction of the stewardess, and nodded slowly. "Something of the sort,"

"I can't wait," she grinned. The giddy dame waved as the train began to chug away, drowning out the rest of her farewell. And abandoning the author on the doorstep of Hell.

I wonder how long it would take me to walk back to Charlotte from here...

"Well, damn," a low whistle sounded from just behind Jasper. "You know, when I read your letter, I told myself you had to be joking,"

Jasper turned around to face his oldest friend. And Jake Levis held his arms out wide, as if welcoming the inspection. "Never thought you'd actually come back, Jack,"

"Neither did I, old friend," Jasper inhaled the earthy scent of his hometown, trying not to let the mere smell of the place overwhelm him. There was a lot more he had to go through before the day was over. "You know, you're one of the few people who still uses my real name, Stormy" he told the man.

"And you are the last person to still use that nickname," Jake laughed, then he leapt up and threw his arms around Jasper. "Come here, Jack. It's been too long,"

Jasper dropped his suitcase and squeezed him as tightly as possible, only half expecting him to disappear in a cloud of smoke, and this dream to come to an abrupt ending. But it didn't.

It broke his heart, leaving Jake behind, all those years ago. But they both understood it was what had to be done, after the town had turned it's back on him.

Jake was like family to him. A part of his family tree. But, like all family trees, not all branches grow the same direction.

"Come on," Jake sniffed. He grinned widely, and scooped up Jasper's suitcase. "Let's get you to town. There's some folks who can't wait to get their hands on you,"

"I assumed as much," Jasper nodded, leaning down to catch the handle of his briefcase. That's also what I was afraid of.

"This way. This'll be the first bit of use the entrance ramp has gotten since you left,"

"I was just thinking that the railing had probably rusted over entirely, in my absence,"

"Well you're wrong," Jake burst out laughing. "We haven't got any railings to rust anymore,"

Why am I not surprised?