writing prompt: take a walk

The sound of his footfall was muffled; the wind had picked up, and a storm was coming in. His strides were long and regular, like a heatbeat, or a metronome. The brewing storm was a better reflection of his inner turmoil than the clear spring day it had been when he first set out. Whenever he got upset, or needed to figure things out, he would go for a walk. The fresh air and the mere motion of his body somehow invigorated his senses and made sense of situations that sometimes appeared completely devoid of sense. On he walked, up the hill and past the Joneses, then down again into the valley.

What exactly had gotten him going this time was a matter for debate; while his brother may claim that he had said absolutely nothing to make his elder upset, the fact of the matter was it was fairly obvious from his tightly pursed lips and his ebony glare that he had in fact been provoked in some way.

Off he went, past the Smiths' and the Allens' and the Greenes', never taking his eyes off the edge of the road. He'd been an angry child; it had been his mother who suggested he take a walk to clear his mind, rather than punching the other boys in the schoolyard. He had taken her advice to heart, and had in fact never been in a physical confrontation since. Whatever his mind processed during that time, it seemed to work, although it did make him a fairly taciturn young man.

Past the church and the town square, past the school he once attended, past the other Joneses (unrelated to the first family.) The wind was biting now, and as he walked, he dug his hands in his pockets. He gave no thought to turning around; it appeared he wasn't at least half-through working out today's demon.

He reached the old Simpson farm and passed by without so much as a glance. A few years back, he would have walked the distance just to see Victoria's smile. But those days were long gone. In the pasture, a palomino horse whipped its tail and took off at a canter, attempting to escape the impending downpour. Of the two, he seemed to be the only one aware of his surroundings. The young man pressed on, oblivious.

Not even the first few raindrops shook him from his ambulatory stupor. But soon, the rain fell in great sheets that lashed at his cheeks. That finally pulled him from his reverie. He had been walking for six hours; he was caught in a storm, night had fallen, and his problem still weighed heavily on his heart. He pulled up the collar on his coat, and walked on.

(462)