A man's work through steel poles. The blustery weather weather sets in as the poles rotate in the gusts, emitting a monotone ring. The benches lay. Chipped and slippery. The tune gives off a melancholy feeling, every now and then. The rusty steel panels. The Canadian Geese frolic in the grass as the tune becomes more frequent and louder. The tape sets a boundary as it waves. The gusts become stronger. Beating the cheeks of those who look on. The nearby bay turns as a fog sets above it. The city becomes less noticeable. Trees sway in time with the music, almost acting as an audience . The sound rings through the ears of those who stand by. Poles creek, quietly. Welcome to the Sound Garden.
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Come As You Are: Stories Written While Visting Washington's Grunge Sites
Short StoryOn my vacation through Washington, I wrote stories while visiting major Grunge sites. These stories are my feelings and descriptions of that exact moment in time. Unedited and raw. Written in that moment, left as they are.
