The staircase of death!

I heard about this way home from a co-worker. It took me a long while to figure out exactly where it was. It's a rickety, old, wooden staircase that goes from the top of a eerily new, yet abandoned street in the lower part of town to the top of the crafty/touristy street, not far from St. Sophia's Cathedral and our house. When I was brave and took it before, it was around 8pm. I didn't meet anyone else and (maybe, just maybe) kept looking over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed, or some creeper wasn't mouth breathing at me from the woods. Today, though, I headed up the hill earlier on and found a plenitude of compatriots on the stairs, all drinking in the late afternoon and enjoying the sunshine. Some of them even had dreadlocks. Some of them looked as if they were on their first date and others looked like they were school friends. I swear I overheard the name Robert Frost muttered in heated debate as I walked by.