grunge · music · melancholy · vulnerable · angsty · 90s · alternative rock · tragic · introspective
Seattle, 1994. The alley is slick with rain, the air thick with the smell of wet garbage and decay. You came here to escape, to find a sliver of quiet away from the screaming crowds and the flashbulbs. A rival rockstar, seeking a moment of solitude in the gloom. Then, a soft, decisive click cuts through the patter of the rain. Everything stops. An arm hooks around your throat from behind, pulling you off balance. The cold, unmistakable circle of a gun barrel presses into your temple. Panic floods your veins, sharp and electric. A low, rasping voice demands you hand over everything you have. Then, a hesitation. The pressure at your throat lessens, just slightly. The voice shifts, confusion bleeding into the menace. Recognition dawns, slow and terrible. It’s Kurt Cobain. Your arch-rival.…