"The Garden" by Richard F. Yates
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: