I Took A Windy Walk

A short story about how my normal daily walk turned into a psychological adventure.

I went for a walk today; a rather windy walk. It started off just like any other walk I’ve taken, but was distinctified by means of a slightly different route than was usual. A suspicion has gripped me that this may have been what caused my bizarre interpretation of the fellow faceless creatures I encountered.

Sometimes something imperceptible happens to one’s seemingly ordinary and mundane enjoyment�"like a daily walk�"that changes one’s view of it. For how long, it is hard to say. Perhaps it is a one-time occurrence, perhaps it is forever altered and distorted in one’s mind. But perhaps it is beyond our power to detect when and where and to what these shake-ups will happen, and perhaps it is for a good of ours that we cannot yet see. 

“Pathetique” Sonata, mov. II - Ludwig van Beethoven: 

I gazed upwards at the tall oaks in the yards around me, how peculiarly windy it is, and the leaves rustled contentedly. 

A car passed me; the driver and his passenger’s gaze lingered too long for comfort. I kept on. It is windy after all, I thought. I skipped the song as it had passed the part I liked best.

Dumbledore’s Farewell - Nicholas Hooper:

I turned a left corner just as a small silver hatchback turned a corner ahead so that our noses were eye to eye. I thought nothing of it as it grew closer, for I had passed cars on my walks many times before and the encounters weren’t usually any sort of special. Clearly however, the driver hadn’t any idea of the proper etiquette of passing a person on a walk.  

You see, a normal driving person would keep on, but the faceless driver pulled up next to me. Despite a twinge of alert in the back of my mind and an urgent desire to determine the amount of danger I was in, I was taught that it is rude to stare into cars, driver still contained or no, so I stared ahead, taking a sudden interest in the tree debris that scattered the sidewalk. I couldn’t help but take slightly hastier steps. The driver did not get out and I did not look back. I didn’t need to. It was windy after all. 

I turned another left corner to head home. Two figures and a stroller stood a ways ahead, perfectly still, blocking my otherwise uncontaminated path. A flutter of annoyance tugged at my shoulders. Apparently I would be gone longer than I had accounted for. It seemed they were on a walk too but they stood so still. The only thing now to do was to avoid the squatters. Oh well, I thought, It is windy after all. 

I crossed the street. 

Learn Me Right - Birdy: 

I picked up my pace through the empty street lined with cars. I came over the hill to a red pickup in the middle of the road; just parked, no driver, no human being in sight. All the other cars had so politely parked out of the way that such a rude truck earned a hardened second-long gaze until I remembered: It was windy after all. 

I turned a corner and kept on. 

Boo’s Going Home - Randy Newman:

A woman up ahead in a green sweater walked quickly in my direction, her gaze to the ground. What she was walking away from, I don’t know what, but I shrugged. I wasn’t bothered. It was windy after all. 

I crossed the street and exited the sidewalk, passing a blue pickup politely parked on the side of the street. Two kids, a boy and a girl, walked ahead of me, curiously silent as they turned a corner and out of sight. 

Traumerei - Robert Schumann: 

I turned opposite them and saw a woman in the distance on my side of the street leaving what must have been her house, dressed in all black except for a pair of strikingly red heels. For what purpose, I do not know, for no one is allowed out. 

She strode to an overturned garbage can in front of the house she left but did not move it, nor even touch it. She caught sight of me walking ever more slowly towards her. I couldn’t read her expression, but it felt distasteful. I drew closer and saw a pink mask drawn over her nose and mouth. I felt more uncomfortable as I drew closer, and felt more and more self-conscious for my lack of a mask, but I kept on. I nearly stopped a few yards from her, she not moving, continuing her withering stare. 

I caught myself just in time and quickly moved across the street and she continued her business with the trash can, seemingly oblivious to our encounter. Quite strange, but it was windy after all. 

I turned a corner quickly, trying to move past the recent embarrassment, and was almost home. But my father sat in loose jeans a ways ahead on the curb of our driveway. How unusual. 

As I drew closer, my father turned to a stranger in my father’s haircut, and instead of returning home, I kept on. 

The two figures and a stroller stood on the same street corner as when I left them, but they proved mobile and were talking quietly with each other. I turned a corner, feeling their glances and hearing shouts from somewhere behind me. I thought to turn and see the source, but thought better and kept on. It was windy after all. 

Father and Son - Cat Stevens: 

Ahead, a grandmother, mother, and daughter, all three decked in different shades of pink, walked slowly towards me, evidently coming from the playground I knew was ahead out of view. I crossed the street to avoid them. 

On this side, a gardener tended to a lovely and lush array of plants between two morose looking properties. Two children ran out the door into the yard, but I didn’t see their faces. I was too hasty and wanted to keep on. Loud giggles of all registers from behind me said they were a happy family. 

I turned two corners and tried to access the sidewalk, but my plan proved foiled. I came to a yard in which inhabited a very small boy, standing very still and staring at a very plain bush directly across the street past me. Slightly unsettled, I passed the boy and the bush and saw a woman, perhaps the boy’s mother, pushing a red car backwards across her lawn. I turned to see the boy again but he had vanished. Very strange. But it was windy after all. 

Rue’s Farewell - James Newton Howard: 

As I reached the end of the street, the three generations of daughters crossed in front of me and entered a yard across from me, the youngest atop the middle’s shoulders halfway up the garden path and the eldest inspecting the coat-matching pink flowers by the sidewalk. An energy of contentment found its way to me on this strange and windy walk, even if for half a second. 

I turned a corner and began to head home. 

The two figures stood to my left, very still and seemed to be suspicious of me. A bit unnerved by their continued interest, I passed them quickly, but shook off my unease. It was windy after all. 

My house approached and I saw that my father’s shadow had disappeared. I crossed the street and made for the back door, curiously relieved that my walk was over. 

The wind was remarkably deafening as I neared the door, turning shrill to the sound of the circular saw that my father was using around back and out of sight. I might wait a while before my next walk. 

At least until the wind dies down.

Author's Note

I wrote this in a burst of inspiration a while ago during quarantine. I am open to any compliments and criticisms about anything you might notice, as I am always trying to improve my weaker writing skills and encourage my stronger ones.