I was looking through my drawers of old school papers and found a segment of a story I wrote my sophomore year. I thought it would make an interesting entry:

“Walking past the buildings at a normal pace was very hard. The lights shining through the numerous windows were the city’s only stars that night, and I easily slipped through the shadows. Heart racing, feet pounding on the concrete, I found an old shop that looked run-down and abandoned; a safe place to hide.

“Inside it smelled of an old closet, dust and decay. Posted on every wall were banners and pictures telling of events long forgotten. One caught my eye. It was a poster advertisement for two clowns. They wore the traditional clothing: the big noses, suits with stripes and polka dots, and large shoes. The heading said ‘Coming Soon to the Theatre- Grimy and Frank.’ Hatred overwhelmed me.

“From in the back of the small shop I heard faint music. But music from where? A crash of lightning brought me in closer. There was going to be a bad storm. Still, I could here the music, so quiet and smooth. Then I saw it: on top of a desk covered with yellowed papers and cigarette butts, an old radio was singing out into the darkness.

“My heavy breathing slowed. My mind traveled to sea. I could see the boats swaying with every movement of the water, the seagulls gliding through the sky.

“Suddenly, the radio lost its connection and burnt out. A growl rose from the depths of my throat. I picked up the dead radio and heaved it across the room. It fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. It was true:  Music does calm the savage beast.”