The Visions

Photo by: Al Forbes

Bradley started the day as a foreman overseeing the demolition of the old church on Robard Ave. Now he sat in a psychologist’s office, his job on the line. At least he was spared the indignity of the couch.

“So what happened?” said Dr. Valdez.

“The truck carrying the wrecking ball broke down,” said Bradley. “We ordered another truck to get the ball. Then, it had an accident. The wrecking ball was…wrecked.”

“And then you had your hallucination?”

“A vision, actually. A nun and a priest stood in the church gallery. I knew then the church shouldn’t be demolished. I told the demolition company owner. He’s furious, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, what did this ‘vision’ say to you?”

“Nothing. They never do. I can just figure out what’s wrong from the vision.”

“They? You’ve hallucinated before?”

“Visions,” corrected Bradley. “I’ve always had them. For instance, there’s something wrong with that doughnut.”

Valdez paused, about to take a bite. “Don’t be silly.” He bit in, then spluttered and spat the bite out. “Ach! It’s salty!”

“Yeah, I saw a baker face-palming just now. Salt looks just like sugar. An understandable mistake by a busy baker.”

“Don’t you think that’s a lucky coincidence?” smirked Valdez. His phone rang. “I’m sorry, that’s my wife. I should…”

“Maybe wait on that,” warned Bradley. “You should prepare yourself.”

Valdez paused. “Why?”

Bradley studiously avoided looking towards the couch. “I think your wife knows about the cheerleader.”
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Written for Sunday Photo Fiction: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/03/19/sunday-photo-fiction-march-19th-2017/