Yesterday, which was a warm, pleasant, autumn day, my wife and I ventured forth from the bunker, on foot, in search of sugary coffee drinks. En route, we decided to take a short sit-down at a little, sculpted garden built between Lake Sacajawea (where the mysterious cryptid, Sacky, is known to haunt the murky depths) and the local butcher shop—-I mean HOSPITAL! Near the hospital…
It’s a very pleasant sort of place, with several concrete stairways leading into a nice, recessed garden. Mariah and I sat on the steps for a bit taking in the artificial naturalism and watching the dozens of odd squirrels cavort about before continuing our coffee run.
On the way back from procuring our caffeinated beverages, we stopped again at the little garden, but by now the light had changed and something felt different… I noticed, for one thing, the odd placement of the staircases leading into the garden, and we discussed possible purposes for the little park. Meditation? Besides the stairs, there was only one bench (room for maybe three people) at one end of the garden to sit on, and that bench was facing a raised (only two or three steps) area with a wall behind it, almost like a small stage, and not the garden itself.
Here’s a drawing of the rough layout of the area:
The drawing was made from memory, and obviously isn’t to scale, but it’s close. I also put the lampposts just outside the garden, but as you can see from the photo above, the lights are just inside the garden next to the sets of stairs, except the top lamppost opposite the cement raised area. That light is a few yards outside the garden, centered between the paths of two staircases at the “top” of the garden.
Interestingly, there is nothing written on the cement wall (besides some graffiti) indicating who built the garden or what it was intended to be used for. However, I noticed that, should one decide to connect all the lampposts with some kind of line or rope, it would form a pattern:
And as Mariah and I were discussing this fact and exploring the raised staging area (one might say “altar,” should one wish), an angry, cussing, incoherent man in dirty clothes and an unkempt beard appeared, out of nowhere, babbling and screaming—at us! As he insulted and threatened, we casually and calmly exited the garden, moving towards Lake Sacajawea, and he continued to swear and yell and accuse us of various crimes and improprieties from his position at the cement raised area in the garden while we walked away. He may still be screaming for all we know.
Mariah (about half joking) claimed that he was the guardian of the altar. Possibly! We suspect the squirrels might also be involved.
And that was pretty much how our lovely afternoon walk ended…
—Richard F. Yates
(Primitive Thoughtician and Grand Hoohaa of The P.E.W.)