Wellington Street
This all started as a social experiment…
As part of my course work, I was asked to investigate a specific stretch of road in order to explain how communities can develop stories and shared experiences. The posts that will follow will be a collection of the reported true tales, fabrications, and actual works of writing produced by the population of Wellington Street.
I cannot verify all that will be included, only speculate.
What I can be sure of however, is that there was no way I could have predicted the strange and often frightening quality of the stories I have encountered. Names of the people will not be included for the sake of anonymity, but effort will be made to change as little as possible.
— March 15th 2014
Hospital “The Black Spires”
“I looked over to the doctor, and noted the worried look on his face. I didn't even have to ask what was wrong. He told me outright.”
Unknown Location 4 “Eyes of a Stranger”
“He began to grind his teeth, and his blood pressure skyrocketed. He began to moan, as his muscles began to relax.”
“The Bottom of the Lake”
“But the burden of her death still rests upon me, and I know in my heart that the desperate, clawing feeling that remains attached to my skin is proof of my guilt.”
Building 8 “A Break in the Gloom”
“It was cold, but not all that windy. It was one of those types of cold that clings to your jeans, brushing against your skin whenever you change your walk.”
Hospital “Jewelry on the Corpse”
“I thought about the years I had spent with my wife, about the day when we first met, and the condition of her body when I was asked to identify her.”