“Whistling wind, whisking away down the winding willow road.” Those were the kinds of thoughts that popped into my head, to keep my mind busy; to keep it from wandering. It was the last “leg” of my brisk morning run — pun intended. I knew I was tired, but Christ I had never been this tired! My subtle, controlled breaths had become labored, jarring howls. The way a cargo train howls upon arrival at its destination. My tennis-shoes skidded along the mulch — my feet were dragging. I still had a solid three miles to go, there’s no way I was going to stop now. I had to stay focused. I had to keep looking ahead. There was no time for useless mindfulness. Living in the present moment was for pretentious sissies. What the hell good would it do me to live in the moment right now? So far, this moment had been nothing but miserable. It had brought me nothing but pain and arduous exhaustion. I wanted to get out of this moment as soon as possible. I wanted to be done. 

Keeping my head straight was no walk in the park either. Rather, it was a run in the park. Yet another pun. I had to keep myself amused somehow. I was constantly being distracted by all the colorful foliage of the trees. They were very nice this time of year. It was mesmerizing. But no! I had to stay focused. I couldn’t let myself be bothered by the trivialities of Mother Nature. However, my drifting eyes kept catching glimpse of what appeared to be a red dot in the near distance. It had been following my line of sight for at least the last mile or so. As if it were teasing my peripheral vision. I hadn’t lent my attention to it until just now. Whatever this red dot may be, it was going slower than I was, for it grew bigger with every step. Closer and closer. The winding road made it especially difficult to make anything out from a certain distance. Eventually, I hit a straight path, and there it was. It revealed itself. Though not completely. The red dot was now a fully formed figure, walking straight ahead of me. It was a tall figure, obscuring itself behind a long, blood-red coat, and a silky, purple scarf. Whoever this stranger was, they certainly had a questionable sense of fashion. But hey, who was I to judge? I would forget all about this person anyway, as I would promptly be passing them. Surely a person with such extravagant attire would be lacking in other departments. If they really wanted to stand out, they would have to try harder. Although, there was something utterly fascinating about this person. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Their stride was rather peculiar. It was fragmented; no fluidity. The complete absence of any sort of hand gestures or arm movements was baffling. For God’s sake, was this some sort of mannequin that had been brought to life through sorcery? 

I noticed that I had begun to slow down. What started out as a sprint, had suddenly become a mere jog. By now, we had both taken many turns. Although, I was in awe of the fact that I had yet to pass them. I wasn’t going that slow… Was I? I figured I could pull off one more tedious lap in the park, and run my last mile heading home. I was dangerously close. Close to what, you ask? I’m not sure anymore. What was curious to me was the fact that this ominous red creature was always in front of me, no matter which way I went. Almost as if they were following me. But they couldn’t be, for I was following them. It’s as if this person knew my every step, but they were always several steps ahead of me. I couldn’t possibly fall victim to this twisted little game of theirs. Who the hell did they think they were?! “Oh, God,” I muttered under my breath. This bastard was getting to me. They were inside my head. I was desperate for any sort of distraction. I darted my eyes in every possible direction save forward. Hopelessly searching for birds in the trees, dragonflies fluttering anywhere near. Even just a passerby in the park trail would somehow be an immense relief, but no. That moment had passed. I was alone in this. How could I possibly keep looking ahead, when all that was there was that despicable red thing? God, listen to me. What was I saying? Had I gone crazy? I was being so paranoid and dismissive for absolutely no reason. This moment would surely end, just as the others did. Perhaps the red stranger and I would even become friends. Maybe we could go have a drink together, and chat it up. Talk about life, or something. Surely that was a possibility. But it couldn’t be, unless I snapped out of this ridiculous, self-destructive mentality; and that I would. Although it did seem especially odd to me that as I headed off the trail of the park, onto the city street, the red stranger was going the same way. How is it that just now, just as I decide to leave the park and head home, that the stranger does the same. As if they had eyes in the back of their head. They were watching me. Close. Too close. 

I’d had enough of this. It was time to take control of this narrative. I would no longer let this red stranger antagonize me. Perhaps they could have been my friend; made my acquaintance, but that ship had sailed. Why would I want to be friends with some weirdo in such flamboyant apparel anyway? I decided to take a different route home, taking the alleys instead of the main streets. It was time. I pivoted my feet, and turned left into the narrow, gravel road. This time I was running like never before. Suddenly, the red stranger had faded into oblivion. I no longer had them in my thoughts. They no longer occupied a space inside my mind. I was free. Free of the hefty burden of that eerie, looming figure. I felt myself going incredibly fast. The cold air hit me like a thousand cargo trucks, but it felt good. I finally took notice of all the antiquated buildings, all the nice trees. I was living in the moment. If I had known it would feel this good, I never would’ve doubted it for a second. In fact, I no longer felt that I was running. Instead, the brisk air had picked me up off my feet, and I was floating. Going in every direction simultaneously. I was as light as a feather. That feeling wore off abruptly however, for the sweet distraction caused me to stumble over and fall face flat on the ground. I lost my rhythm. I had come to a stop. I don’t remember feeling any pain however, even though I knew I was hurt. I got up on my scraped legs, and picked up my head, only to realize the worst. The red stranger was walking in front of me again. This began to feel like a fever dream. It wasn’t possible. There’s no way they could be in front of me, without me having seen them pass me. It wasn’t possible. Maybe this was a dream. So many questions raised in my head. Why wasn’t I hurting? How did this mysterious stranger catch up to me so fast? Who the hell were they, and what did they want?!! As per usual, there was only one way to find out. 

“Hey!” I yelled at the stranger. They didn’t respond. Not even so much as a head turn in acknowledgement.  “I’m talking to you!” No response. I ran up to catch up to them, for what seemed to be an eternity, as I was incredibly tired. Almost as if at this very moment, just as the stranger is to be revealed, time had slowed down. Funny how time only ever seems to do that when it’s least convenient. I got close enough to be able to reach out and grasp their shoulder. I pulled them toward me aggressively, and got a good look at this joker’s face. To my surprise, it was an older man. Not just any old man, however. The moment I recognized his gaze, the truth hit me like a brick wall. I had seen this face before. In fact, I saw it everyday, every time I looked in the mirror. I would see it every time I looked at a picture of myself. But it couldn’t possibly be me. This man’s best years were behind him. His face was rugged and scruffy. His skin felt cold and stiff. His hair was completely gray, and so was his beard. I let go of him; he says nothing. In fact, he doesn’t react at all. I feel my chin begin to quake. A sharp shiver crawling up my spine like the tip of a blade. For a moment, I was completely frozen still. Not a word from the man. His eyes were as pale in shock as mine were. It was like looking in a mirror. Suddenly, he reached over and placed his hand over my head. He brushed his hand down my face slowly, as if caressing, and carefully shut my eyelids with his fingertips. I couldn’t help but to follow suit. As if I had a string attached to my wrist, forcing me to counter the gesture. As if I were simply a reflection, being controlled by the man himself. When I opened my eyes again, he was gone. Or rather, I was gone. The long, red coat now rested upon my body. The purple scarf wrapped tightly around my neck. My skin felt cold, just like his. I felt the aching in my stiff joints as they struggled to get going. The pain has officially set. This is what the moment has brought me… 

“So what do you think?” I asked nervously. “I didn’t peg you for a surrealist,” he responds, setting aside the slim manuscript. He doesn’t seem impressed.  “What do you mean?” I ask.  “Well, it’s a little immature don’t you think?” I am unsure how to respond to that.  “It feels like it was written by a pretentious schoolboy,” he continued. That hurt me quite a bit.  “Well, you know… I figured if I was going to make a comeback as a writer, I had to be shocking,” I responded.  “Oh, it’s shocking alright. Shockingly mediocre.” Was I paying this guy to be my publisher, or to simply beat up my self-esteem?  “Well, I don’t know what to say. I thought it was pretty good,” I responded. It was the only thing I could think to say. He retorts,  “Yeah well, I think you should leave surrealism to those who do it best, Kafka and Poe.”  “But they’re dead!” I exclaimed.  “Exactly,” he responded.  “Look Jeff, why don’t you go outside and take a walk. Maybe have a coffee or something. Get your inspiration flowing a little bit. Then, come back and maybe we can rework this story, yeah?” And so I did. I went for a little walk in the park. It was a nice day for contemplation. To contemplate whether or not I should even continue writing. Perhaps I shouldn’t. Perhaps it was all a futile affair. Like whistling into the wind. Perhaps that moment had passed, and it was time to head on to a new one. A new road. It had been nearly twenty years since I last wrote, and I had done my fair share of decent works. Just then, I hear footsteps walking behind me. At first, I am startled, but then I listen more closely. The footsteps sound tranquil, but steady. Someone who is sure of themselves, but in no rush. I turn to see that it is a tall, older man wearing a red hoodie and a maroon-ish colored scarf, calmly strolling; enjoying the scenery. His face is damn near impossible to make out, but I know I've seen it before. I can sense it. After relieving myself with a brief chuckle, I turn around to face forward again, still grinning. Maybe I should get that coffee now.