Misery/Agony

The sun wasn't up yet, but you could see out in the distance fairly well. It was commonly grey and groggy, mixing uncomfortably with the orangey-pink of the new coming day. A cool, infant breeze fluttered past a humble man, standing tall, bright and mindful. As the sun rose higher over the stirring earth, the man became lucid, blending beautifully with the colors of a fresh beginning. Soon you could not see him at all, where he was or where he went. One would only feel an intensity, deep and afflicting, where he should be. The man seemed unfazed by his state as he raised his chin high, drinking in the sunlight gratefully. He allowed himself full body immersion.
For some time it seemed that the small surrounding earth radiated brilliantly. A few school children ran up the hill and danced with youthful, energetic, bliss in it's place before rushing off to the roads further ahead. A young distant woman walked slowly up the hill's welcoming slope, seemingly stranded and unfortunate, carrying the wind with her as she traveled. Upon the place where the man stood, she knelt down and looked at the earth, the wind throwing the tail of her coat ahead of her. She placed her hand on the soil and felt comforting warmth. For the first time in a long time, she did not feel alone, her sorrows and worries were almost being pulled into the dirt and absorbed. But she could not let her sufferings go, she couldn't bare the thought of what to feel without it, too conformed to sorrow and exclusion to let it go. Removing her hand and dusting it on her trousers, she brought herself to her feet and went on her way. Before turning to the road and leaving, she looked back down at the spot where she was so captivated and saw an astoundingly beautiful man, looking out over the town below him. The wind that followed her up the hill had traveled back down towards the figure. When the fresh air whipped at his clothing, it did not sway or or move, when it licked across his face his hair was not tossed or thrown. He turned his head and looked up at the woman. The wind shot up at her forcefully, making her step back. She gave the man one more glance and walked away very slowly, never again would the woman be the same.

When the afternoon sun sat cradled in the middle of the sky, the man was gone. One could not identify where he stood. He would never stand there again. As far as one could conclude, he was never there in the first place. Trudging down the hill now was a small man, hands shoved in the pockets of his pettycoat, eyes on the ground. This was his hill, he walked it everyday from his home to the town. His hair was being thrown left and right by mischievous drafts as he traveled, lost in deep thought and unconcerned for his surroundings. He didn't visually notice anything as he stomped right on the place where a man might of been, and right past it. But his once occupied mind was suddenly cleared, all thoughts lost and undocumented. He stopped.

Before the small man was a trail, not on the ground but in the air. It was invisible, but he saw it clearly. The man blinked several times to correct his faltered vision, but the trail remained. It led down the hill. "Shit," he mumbled to himself, the tone in his voice fitting perfectly with his negative mindset. He continued his walk as it was before, only now he was following someone else's. He knew that this path was of another man's because it carried itself just like another man walking down the hill. It took him in the direction where he had planned to go anyway, to a small market that had great items in the morning but terrible remains thereafter.
When he got to the bottom of the hill, where only a few buildings stood idle and unbothered, the trail led sharply to the left, and the man wanted to go right. He stood for a minute, shifting his weight on either foot, clicking his tongue and squinting. This is not my path...I did not make it...The man curved around and looked behind him to see if he had created a trail such as the one he was following. Nope, I don't make paths for men to follow...He looked off to where the path might lead and could not see, meaning his fate was too open to all kinds of unforeseen occurrences. He sighed loudly and made his mind up. Oh well, he thought and shrugged, it might of led me to disaster anyway. Feeling alright about aborting his previous exertion, the man carried on his own way, tripping on a rock and cursing.
He took the road he always took, because everyone knew him there. He noticed regular faces and they smiled warmly to him. His old next door neighbor that had moved closer into town was sweeping the entrance to her shop. "Hello, Thom! How are you?" He raised a hand to her. "Very well now that I've seen you, how about yourself, Love?" He shot her a charming smile. She was getting on in years but she was still very pretty and he felt she deserved a flashy grin for keeping up so well. She was too busy giggling to answer his question and he walked on. There were a few teenagers crowding the walkway and Thom raised an eyebrow.
"Shouldn't the lot of you be in school?" One kid, obviously the leader of the group, stuck his tongue at Thom. "Shouldn't you be in a studio making another album?" Thom laughed and scratched the unnecessary beard on his chin. He made a mental note to shave later.
"Fine, neither of us were ever here."
"Deal." The kids parted to let him through and he went on.
He was almost to the market when he watched a small toddler run towards him absentmindedly. The boy ran into Thom's legs, struggled to get around them, then decided to shove between them, almost making Thom fall forward. Then a woman with her arms covered in shopping bags ran past him. "Sorry, my son he-you know, sorry!" and she was gone. Thom could only laugh as he watched the woman struggle to catch up to her child. When he turned around again a flyer was shoved into his face by a careless man who didn't seem too happy about passing out flyers. " Right, mate, go or don' go, 'stup tyoo," and he dragged on. The green paper was advertising a few local bands that were to play in a few different places for a few nights. I'll probably go to at least one of these, Thom thought, and walked on.
He had finally made it to the center of the town's madness, where people were taking lunch breaks and tourists here being annoying and elderly locals strolled arm in arm. He looked at his watch and saw a full day ahead of him. He removed his coat and laid it over his arm, showing his red t-shirt with some logo that seemed to be on everything he liked. He usually wore sunglasses, but today he let his guard down. He was feeling friendly enough to be approached by strangers and friends alike.
Thom was ready to shop, or whatever he came to town to do. He held the posture of a leisure-man, open to whatever and the whatnots that accompanied them. But then he caught site of the trail. There it was. Right ahead of him, going to the next street. He knew what was on the next street and contemplated following it again. "Why not?" He said to himself. He adjusted his shirt, cleared his throat, and walked into the trail that led him away from the crowds.
Thom walked briskly, stepping in small, unexplained puddles on purpose and hopping on any cracks he could find. He knew he had made it to the end of the block without looking up as the noise of all the people turned more into bouncy echoes and ghost-whispers dancing along the brick walls and into nothing. The invisible, path turned down an alley instead of the next street as Thom assumed beforehand. Thom had traveled down this alley many times throughout his life in Oxford and felt no anxiety in taking this route again. Besides that, his curiosity was too much to turn back now. When he stepped into the blue shadows of the alley, the temperature dropped, a sharp, cold breeze lashed past his face ominously. At the end of the alley where the trail ended, he saw the figure of a man. His long coat sat perfectly straight in a gust of wind that never made it's way to Thom as it should have. Thom gripped his jacket in his hands, regretting ever taking it off as he began walking again. Each slow step Thom took made a loud click on the concrete, but the man did not look up. The mysterious wind that should be whipping at the odd man's coat unexpectedly blasted in Thom's face. Suddenly Thom was blown forward with incredible force. He took a few clumsy steps before falling to his knees. His jacket slipped from his fingers and tumbled awkwardly against the man's legs. He took two steps forward and stood over Thom. He looked up immediately, overwhelmed with curiosity to know who it was. Looking down at Thom with the eyes of a stranger, was a very familiar face.

"Jonny?!" Thom piped up as he looked into his friends eyes. Jonny's expression was hard and distant. Something in Thom's stomach didn't feel right. "Jonny? What the hell are you doin' here? You didn't tell me you were-" The man put his hand up to silence Thom.
"You address me as Jonny? How can you see me?" Thom blinked awkwardly at his friend and chuckled, putting his hand out for Jonny to help him up. The man only stared at his hand before looking at Thom again. "I ask you again. How is it that you can see me?"

"JonJon...where's your lisp, mate?" Thom was feeling uneasy and alarmed. The man shot his head back in offense. "Lisp? I will only ask you once more, how did you find me here? How can you see me?" Thom felt like crying, although he couldn't tell why. He stammered and sighed in frustration. "I-I followed you here, I guess? There was a trail...I...what the fuck are you going on about, Jonny?" Thom helped himself up and stood before the man. "I am not Jonny. You have mistaken me. Give me your hand." Thom gave Jonny an awkward look. "Um...are you feeling alright, mate?" Thom really couldn't grasp what was happening. The man in front of him, Jonny or not, grabbed his hand impatiently. "What do you feel?" Thom took a step back but the man held tight. "Tell me, human, what do you feel?"

"Wha-human?!" The look in the stranger's eyes intensified.
"Warm or cold? Do not test me, I can destroy you." The man squeezed Thom's hand so tight that his knuckles cracked.
"Warm! Your hand its-gah-Jonny! Wha-" Suddenly the man was gone. Thom was alone in the alley, holding his hand up to no one. "Jonny? Whe-where...what the bloody fuck?!" Thom went for his cell and remembered it was in his jacket. He looked all over the alley but it was no where to be seen. He struggled to see better when it finally occurred to Thom that it was dark outside, the moon almost fully visible. The only evidence of the man was Thom's throbbing hand, his index finger turning purple.

"He broke my finger..." The only thing Thom could set his mind on was getting his other, not-damaged, hand on Jonny for playing such a screwed up trick on his best friend.