Searching for the Heart of Pedro

Terry zoomed in on the Welcome to Pedro sign, but overshot and got nothing but Lowery's Woods. He panned over until he found a blurred o Pe. When he finally had all the words in focus, he spoke into the mic. "What brings people to Pedro?" He tilted the camcorder down the bulleted attractions, each with its own plank, narrating over them as he passed.

Donnelly Falls "The beauty of nature."
The Pedro General Store "Deceptively named diner food."
Pedro Conservatory "Fine art."
Gateway to Hell "Popular tourist destinations."

He kept the camera balanced on his shoulder with his right hand while he brandished a remote control with his left. "Shit," he murmured and stopped recording. He went over to the camp stool to check the boombox. The CD was still spinning on pause, Black Sabbath queued up. Everything was as it should be. He went back to the sign, lined up his left arm with the sensor, and re-centered the camera on Gateway to Hell. He simultaneously hit record on the camcorder and play on the remote. The sound of pattering rain blasted from the speakers. After the first bell sounded, he said, "And now…" He waited for the guitar riff, then aimed at the Sell Your Soul For Indie Rock Fest poster tacked to a telephone pole, bold red letters against a black background. "…the music."