Bergeron Alternate Ending

Jaxon is a tall, lanky fellow with an extreme case of insomnia. His body was withering away to almost nothing. His brown eyes sparkled with more intelligence that you'd think at first glance, there was something behind this eyes lodge deep in his head that was begging to be released but the darkness flooded his mind. He had long, oily, brown hair slicked back to give off a business look but no job to show for it. He was wearing a dark indigo-washed denim with an oversized grey crewneck t-shirt and a worn-in rich chocolate-brown leather biker jacket that ditched that bad-boy sneer in favor of a mature, polished man.
He use to have a good life, a good job, but then the incident happened. His wife of seven years died of cancer. Jaxon didn’t know

how he would get by. It was then that he became restless. He would think about her all day long and soon it moved into the night. He couldn’t stop thinking. He was the king and she was his Coretta. He was going crazy. He would deny that his wife really died and became distant from reality.
It had been over a year since Jaxon had really slept, and he suspected it was killing him. These last few months have made him feel like he was being dragged drunk through a malign carnival where people we’re really screaming on rides, and people were really lost in the mirror maze, and clowns would lurk around the corners with smiles on their face. He couldn’t take it anymore. The worst that he can do is to sit by himself in silence. If he didn’t move around he thought of a multitude of ways to end his life just so he could finally rest.
It was during this strange, fraught time that he stopped going to work, stopped communicating with his friends and family, and stopped eating like he use to. He would take long walks in the torrid summer days and twilit, brisk, cool nights.
It was a tuesday night in june of 2006 around three in the morning. The night wasn’t like the others. There was no movement on the streets and no cars passing by. Jaxon was out like usual casually walking. Jaxon pulled a cigarette out of his right hand pocket of his jacket and lit it. He gently lifted the cigarette to his dry lips and took a smooth drag from his cancer stick.
He walked a little bit farther this his usual route.

He strolled by a police patrolled park about six blocks from his apartment. The park, as it was on most nights, was completely empty. He turned down a short side street in order to loop back to his apartment when he first noticed him. At the far end of the street, on his side, was a silhouette of a man. He was a very slender man with long arms and legs. He had what looked like a very slim fitting, tailored, pinstripe suit. It was hard for him to make out the face. He didn’t think anything of it and thought it was just muddled lush.
Jaxon stepped as close as I could to the roadway to give him the man a majority of the sidewalk to pass by. The closer he got, the more Jaxon realized how gracefully he was moving. He came closer still until I could make out his face. His eyes were open wide and wild, his head was tilted back slightly, looking off at the sky. His mouth was formed in a painfully wide cartoon of a smile.
Jaxon crossed the empty street. As he reached the other side, he glanced back... and then stopped dead in his tracks. The man had stopped walking and was on the standing with one foot in the street, perfectly parallel to me lurking around with a sinister look on his face. He was facing me but still looking skyward. Smile still wide on his

lips.
Jaxon was completely and utterly unnerved by this. He went from a steady walk to vigirous walk real quick, but kept his eyes on the man. He didn't move.
Once Jaxon had put about half a block between him and the man, he turned away from him for a moment to watch the sidewalk in front of him. The street and sidewalk were completely empty. Still unnerved, Jaxon looked back to where he had been standing to find the mysterious man gone. For the briefest of moments Jaxon felt relieved, until he noticed him. He had crossed the street, and was now slightly crouched down. Jaxon couldn't tell for sure due to the distance and the shadows, Jaxon had not looked away for more than 10 seconds and this man had already crossed the street.
Jaxon was shocked and stood there staring at this man. The man began to move closer, he took giant, exaggerated tip toed steps, as if he was a cartoon character. Jaxon ran and the man ran just as fast. Jaxon sprinted as fast as he could back to and open lit street. He look back for a second thinking he would see that daunting smile but nothing was to be seen. Jaxon check his surroundings, well aware now. He speedily ran back to his apartment and locked himself in. He sat there in silence and thought about what he just saw. He didn’t know what to think.
He lived in the outskirts of Los Angeles for six more months after that night before he moved back to his hometown, and he never went out for another walk at night again. There was something about his face that always haunted him. He didn't look drunk, he didn't look high. He looked completely and utterly insane.