AUTUMNTOWN

CHAPTER 1

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden light over the empty road, the kind of light that made the autumn colors seem to glow from within. Max Fanwell drove in silence, the rumble of his old 70's styled black sedan the only sound breaking the calm. The air smelled clean, crisp, and the landscape, with its rolling hills and endless stretches of trees, made Max feel like he was stepping into a postcard.

He hadn't planned this trip, not really. It had started as just a vague idea, one of those "maybe someday" notions that writers throw around when they're stuck. Go somewhere quiet. Somewhere with no distractions. And that's how he found himself heading toward Autumntown, a place he hadn't even known existed until a week ago.

Autumntown was small—smaller than small, really. It had come up a few times in the forums he frequented, mostly between writers looking for a place that was "untouched by modern life." One post had caught his eye: If you're looking for peace and inspiration, Autumntown's the place. Quiet, beautiful, and just the right amount of boring.

That sounded perfect.

Max needed the break, the distance. His latest project wasn't going anywhere, and the pressure had started gnawing at him. So, on a whim, he'd packed his bags, filled up the tank, and hit the road. No deadlines, no distractions—just him, his thoughts, and the peaceful quiet of a forgotten town.

For miles, he passed nothing but trees, their leaves turning shades of fiery orange and deep red. Every now and then, a house would appear, tucked back from the road, looking as though it had been there forever. There were no billboards, no signs of the fast-paced life he'd left behind. Just the road ahead and the promise of a town where time seemed to stand still.

As the sun dipped lower, Max turned on the radio, letting the soft hum of static fill the car. He had always found something calming about driving—just the steady motion of the wheels against the pavement, the way the miles ticked by. It was like moving forward without actually having to think about it.

And then, he saw it.

"WELCOME TO AUTUMNTOWN,"

The sign stood on the side of the road, perched on a small hill. The letters, painted in faded white, looked friendly enough, but there was something about the way it stood there—isolated, surrounded by trees—that made Max hesitate for a moment. Still, he kept driving. It was just a sign, after all.

Max continued down the road, the town unfolding slowly before him. The distant wavy hills now gave way to narrow streets lined with tall, colorful trees, their leaves scattered in golden piles along the sidewalks. It felt like the kind of place people passed through without much thought, but it had that quaint charm you couldn't help but notice. Quiet, peaceful. Exactly what he needed.

The radio played a soft tune as Max glanced at the gas gauge—just low enough to warrant a stop. As he pulled up to the crossroads where the main street split in two directions, he saw the familiar signs of life. The road ahead led deeper into town, past what looked like a police station and a series of small shops with houses sprinkled in between. To his left, a modest gas station sat at the corner of the road, with its vintage red and white paint job looking like it hadn't been updated since the '70s.

Max took the left, steering his car toward the station. The old-fashioned pumps sat beneath a canopy of lights—though instead of industrial fixtures, there were antique lamp posts and lanterns casting a warm glow over the area. The whole place had a timeless feel, like you could've stumbled across it decades ago, and it wouldn't have looked much different.