Ashton Rook: November 19, 1988-May 25, 2025

Ashton “Ash” Rook was born on November 19, 1988 in Emerson Valley to Jonas and Miriam Rook (née Harrison). He sadly took his own life on May 25, 2025 after years of severe mental health problems. He was predeceased by his father and is survived by his mother. I wish I could say that everyone at the Emerson Valley Gazette will miss him, but in all honesty, we won’t.

His mother is a major figure in Emerson Valley, best known as the president of the Raven Club. She raised Ash as a single mother after his father was tragically killed in a hunting accident in Blackwood Forest. While Ash had every advantage in life, he chose to turn away from his family and his calling, resulting in a never-ending struggle to make ends meet.

I don’t know what happened to Ash that made him the way he was. At this point, I really don’t care. He’s gone. It’s a shame, because as abrasive as he was, he had a knack for finding the truth. I guess that’s what made him such a good reporter whenever he bothered to actually do any work. Prior to joining our staff, he actually won awards writing for the Carson Hills Journal. After he came back to Emerson Valley and was hired by our paper, he squandered all that natural talent writing disgusting and perverse drivel.

Miriam had such high hopes for her son. Yet Ash proved to be a disappointment. He was prone to terrible mood swings and treated his friends and family horribly. I tried to be understanding, but he constantly bullied me, belittled me, and slapped away the helping hand I offered. I might’ve been able to forgive all that if he had just once shown an ounce of compassion to prove he was human after all, but that never happened.

To be honest, I never understood why Ash wanted to be part of the Gazette. He didn’t like being a reporter, he didn’t like doing work, and he certainly didn’t like any of his coworkers. Maybe he just needed people to abuse, and everyone else was smart enough to turn him away. Who knows. It’s not like he can return from the grave to explain himself, right?

I know Ash’s obituary wasn’t the right place to air my grievances, but he never cared about social norms or other people’s feelings, so he would’ve probably gotten a kick out of it. If I offended his family, I apologize. However, I suspect they will understand, having known what he was like.

There won’t be a memorial or a funeral service for Ash. His mother will have him cremated and dispose of the remains however she sees fit. The only person who would’ve insisted that we do something to remember him is gone. I’ll crack open a bottle of champagne and drink to his memory and the fact that a weight has been lifted. Goodbye, Ash—by now, that’s all that’s left of you.