Fandom High Dormitories

Summer seemed to be on its way out. It was overcast and cool which made being outside a lot more comfortable than when it was nearly one hundred degrees and just breathing made you sweat. Jasper preferred this sort of weather above anything else.

He'd gotten a few messages over the past few days from Doug Weathers, hoping against hope for an interview and from some people that were fans of his father's. They just wanted to let him know they were waiting and hoping that he'd soon take up his father's mantle and become the killer that he'd been.

Needless to say, Jasper hadn't answered any of those. He wasn't a huge fan of Melissa Hoover's but he had to credit her with keeping his location fairly secret. Doug Weathers showing up here would have been a headache and Jasper had enough of those.

He'd gone into town to grab a coffee (not pumpkin spice flavored) and was now dropping into a chair on the deck, head back and eyes closed. He felt like he was just floating through life lately with no real aim and that scared him. If he got bored, things could get...messy.

[Open]

Jasper had smashed his cell phone a few days ago. It'd been worth it. After seeing his inbox flush with messages from Doug Weathers, he'd gotten sick of it and just smashed it with the heel of his shoe. No regrets. Melissa and Howie could contact him other ways. He didn't need a phone, didn't care to have a phone. He didn't want anyone to come a knocking.

The quiet was why Jasper was outside on the deck this evening. The sun was just starting to set, making it feel slightly cooler though it was still hot. Jasper was used to it though. Southern summers were famous for two things: heat and humidity. He'd grown up around them and knew them well.

Hot summer nights are my favorite, Jasper. He could hear his father lengthening the word 'favorite', making it several syllables longer than it needed to be. Makes you feel like you've worked really hard. You ever sawed through a --

Jasper cut that thought off, shoved it behind a door in his mind. He'd brought a bottle of water outside with him and was using it to keep cool. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, one arm tucked up behind his head and his eyes were closed.

It was so easy to imagine himself back home, back in his grandma's house, sitting on the porch while she railed incoherently inside. But here, it was just quiet. Jasper sighed.

He hoped his grandmother hadn't burned the house down.

[ Open ]

It was that quiet, gray time right as the sun's rays stopped coating the world in brightness and right before the darkness slipped over the world like a well worn cloak.

—gotta wakey, wakey, Jasper, my boy

Jasper startled, blinking sluggishly. Had he fallen asleep? No, no. No, he'd just been in some sort of daze, staring down at the island below but not really seeing anything. When his father's voice had sounded in his head, he'd woken up and rubbed his eyes.

Without meaning to, he thought of Rusty. Before his mind could go too far into that train of thought, he closed the door and sealed it again. Jasper closed his eyes and took a deep breath before hopping up onto the ledge of the roof. Feet perched solidly on the edge, Jasper tilted his head back, feeling the waning heat of the day giving way to the cooler air of the night.

We are their gods, Jasper. And if they will not worship, we will make them.

Jasper breathed deep. In. Out. The thrill of excitement that coursed through his body at his father's words disgusted him. That wasn't right. That wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He opened his eyes and blinked. He could do so much on this tiny island. Destroy it and leave it behind.

Yes.

"No!" he shouted out into the grey sky. And then quieter, he mumbled, "No."

[ Open. Feel free to have heard the shout or not. Up to you. ]