He was accosted by a man under the bridge, who yelled at him about the weather.

I now know that this didn't happen, but the image persists, specifically his insistence that it was about to rain despite there not being a cloud in the sky.


He saw two people wrestling in a Burger King parking lot wearing snorkeling gear.

This doesn’t seem plausible, but I have a distinct memory of it.


A pickup truck drove past, slowly, then came around again and pulled up alongside. The driver wordlessly, unblinkingly stared at him.

I forget this happened then remember it suddenly.


He fell into a canal.

I suspect that this didn’t actually happen, but I had so often been afraid that it would happen, that I got the impression that it did happen once.


He crossed paths with a young woman in the early evening. He said, “Hi.” He asked, “How are you doing?” She said, “Fine,” and turned away.

I’m pretty sure this happened, but it’s a vague memory, possibly only something I wanted to do but didn’t because I figured the attempt to connect would fail as thus.


He was told that he is becoming notorious for his walks, day and night, in the heat and cold and rain, with no destination.

Perhaps by the same strange man who accosted me about the weather and probably doesn’t exist.


He saw an old acquaintance. He said nothing to him. And vice versa.

Surely it wasn’t him. He lives across the country. Besides I no longer had anything to say to him. And vice versa.


He was laughed at by a handful of children, six or seven year olds, non-maliciously but still without mercy.

I have no concrete memory of this, but it seems like something that would have occurred.


He hears music often, a block or two away, too faint to identify.

Certainly real, but odd that I’ve never been able to track the source down.


He was scared by a woman in all flowing black walking quietly in the dark. She seemed like a ghost.

It was dark and I just might have not been able to see the details that would make her less eerie.


A mumble-mouthed beggar asked him for the very specific donation of two dollars.

Real as best I can tell.


He saw a young woman, possibly quite attractive, definitely sad, hiding, or simply seeking shelter, behind the bushes in the raised planter alongside the office building.

I’m just not sure about this. It’s too weird.


He finally noticed that some buildings had changed color.

Perhaps I have not been paying attention. Makes me wonder what else I’m not aware of.


He threw rocks at the annoying cars honking at him as they drove past.

This is pure fantasy. One that I often have.


Twice he heard a woosh, not a swish, from something large above him, low in the night sky, amidst a broad swath of treeless avenues.

These experiences are surely real, but probably nothing but malfunctions of my mind.


A rabbit hopped in front of him.

It happened, cute little bunny, but did it happen twice, perhaps even three times.


He was inadvertently flashed by a young woman closing her curtains in the evening.

This really did happen and it was awesome.


An attractive older woman noticed his partial erection as they passed each other. She smiled ever so slightly.

Erection and woman were real. The relation between the two; I’m not so sure about. The subtle smile might have been her usual expression. And if it was in response to the erection; I’m not sure what it means.


He meandered through a large group of loitering adolescents and made no impression.

I’m not yet old, though I am no longer young, thus I don’t register.


He saw a frail old woman at the intersection, waiting for the traffic to clear so she could cross even though she had the right of way.

I was tempted to help.


A crazy woman looked at him. He returned the look and saw nothing in her eyes. It was as if she didn’t see him, as if he were an apparition. It was unnerving.

It was dark and I was afraid I would end up like her.


He met two runaways from foster homes trying to track down a friend that they could stay with. He let them use his phone and gave them five dollars to get something to eat at Taco Bell while they waited for their friend.

This was good. This was rare.


He got tired of walking without destination along empty streets and past shut homes and closed buildings.

Searching was implied, as is the expectation of my failure, but as to what I am searching for, that remains undefined.

Brian Brunson studied history and philosophy at the University of Oregon. His work has been published by Literary Juice, The Doctor T. J. Eckleburg Review, and Four Chambers. He currently lives in Phoenix, Arizona with his cat, also named Brian.

Images by Elfie Hintington courtesy of the L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah.

Copyright © 2016, Otis Nebula Press. All rights reserved.