There once was a man, and like any other man or woman this man had a name. But of course a name was not all that he had. He had everything any normal person had for he was as regular as regular could get. You could perhaps catch him walking about in his slick brown coat, his grey cozy scarf, his boring black boots, and black umbrella but you wouldn’t give him a second glance. He never caught anyones attention. This man with a name lived on top of the highest hill in town buying the house that never got sold because of the difficult journey up and down that hill. But he didn’t mind the walk. No one knew him nor did they talk to him. He was a man with a name that no one knew. No one really remembers when things started to change until the fact stood that “regular hill man” was not as regular anymore. You should know that in this part of town rain is pretty regular. The houses are regular, the people are regular and the buildings as well. We live in a regular town with our regular lives. But the man with a name set the tale that everyone told. “What does he do up there?” people would ask, “do you happen to know his name?” But the responses would always be the same “who knows”, “now that I think about it, I don’t actually know his name”. So the man with a name because nameless. The nameless man on top of the hill. Who became less and less regular in our regular small town. You could see him walking around his yard under the heavy rain with the same black umbrella that by then was recognizably distinguishable. “Look at the nameless man”, “what’s he doing?” As time went on the regular town of regular people grew accustomed to the strange actions of the nameless man. Until he up and disappeared. No one knows what happened or where he went but one day he was just gone. His house still stands there on top of that hill, filled with all his irregular things. And although he’s gone our town of regular people talk about him, as his strange aura floats above the people as a suffocating cloud of uncomfortableness. Stories are told of what people believed to have happened. Ever since he left, our regular town has become less regular, with our children waking up in sweats and adults complaining of random midnight knocks on the doors and windows of their homes. Cars have appears scratched and pets have been vanished left and right. Children tell stories of the nameless man haunting their small regular town, and can’t you help but wonder if it’s true?