Ballad Of A Fallen Angel

There was once, not terribly long ago, a little boy who was pitifully scarred - emotionally, not physically. He was traumatized after being in a fatal car accident with his parents at the age of five. Their deaths were not instantaneous, but painful and as slow as that ambulance trying to get through crowded, icy streets. The boy's death, however, unfortunate in his eyes, never came.

In retaliation to the injustice he had tragically suffered through, he closed up and refused all forms of speech. He narrowly escaped foster care, thanks to a terribly old great aunt that he had never heard of before his move.

The boy, Jesse we'll call him for sake of courtesy, was refused from all schools, tutors and even therapists - he bested them all without uttering a single word.

As he grew, his Aunt became feeble and too old to care for him. At the ripe age of eight and fearing foster care, Jesse cared for himself and his aunt, making everything look perfectly fine when social services came to call. When he failed, he'd grab his backpack of food and hide in the walls, staying there until the tired social worker finally gave up and gave them another chance.

At nine years old, Doctor Lillywhite heard about Jesse's case. He was unlike anyone Jesse had ever known. Although he never let it show, the boy was immediately taken with him.

Doctor Lillywhite, though Jesse always gave him a run for his money, never gave up on the untalkitive boy. He fed Jesse's hungry mind and imagination. He stayed for seven years, until his childhood love came back in to his life, begging for him to come home. It was a hard decision, but the Doctor ultimately left. Jesse's first word was goodbye, said on his birthday. Sweet sixteen it was not.

Not long after the great aunt passed on. Jesse, refusing to spend the last two childhood years in the place he'd been fighting against nearly his whole life, ran off. He lived in libraries and coffee shops, taking the artistic knowledge Doctor Lillywhite had supplied him with and putting it to use. The Doctor's last gift to Jesse had been a guitar. Jesse would play in parks and coffee shops for tips when he wasn't freely reading his own poetry to anyone who'd listen. He'd make just enough to eat while he survived the winters hiding in library bathrooms until after lock up. He'd read away his loneliness.

At eighteen, he published his first book of poetry and short stories, thanks to being friends with a coffee shop regular, who just happened to be a part of a good publishing company.

At twenty-one, he got a trial record deal for his music. He became lead singer and guitarist of a band the company had put together. With Jesse's expert leadership, the band became an overnight success. Each of their songs soared to the top of the charts. For the first time, Jesse was having the time of his life.

The fun didn't stick around forever though. Their five year run ended on one tragic night in their tour bus, headed to Cincinnati.

"Hey, do you think we should pull over? The ice storm is getting rough," their bassist, Jo Paul, said worriedly, echoing Jesse's fear.

"We'll never make it to the concert if we don't go straight through. It'll ruin our perfect record and that's bad luck. No, we keep going," Stix, their drummer, argued.

Jesse didn't say a word. He had finally overcome his childhood fear. He didn't want a little ice to send him spiraling back.

Instead, he spiraled forward and out of the windshield. The shattered glass slashed through his throat. Rushed to the hospital, they saved his life - even his injured vocal chords. The doctors had every faith that with therapy and some strong will power, Jesse could talk again.

He didn't, however. Refusing therapy like he had as a child, he went speechless for the second time in his life.

From here, he tried other venues of careers. He had survived once already on his own, he could easily do it again, he thought.

But he hadn't expected the betrayal. He tried being a lead guitarist, but no one would have him. He tried being a song writer, a poet, an author. He had so much to tell the world, but the world didn't want anything to do with him anymore, labeling him a washed up hasbeen. Hollywood had taken back his fame as quickly as it had given it to him. It stabbed him in the back, kicked him out, then sent him packing.

Jesse had suffered his share of hardships in his life already, but fate seemed to like toying with him. He left L.A. like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. He chose a small town on the East Coast, somewhere he'd never been near before, with the ocean only minutes away. Calm white beaches, that's what he needed. Somewhere to rest his weary bones. To relax instead of the constant struggle with competition.

He went to Battlefield, South Carolina to be alone and to rest. So how could he have known he had yet to embark on the greatest adventure of them all?

I'm Jesse Jameson. And this is my story.