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Goulcrest , once a peaceful and growing community was now partially reclaimed by nature. Were it not for the occasional bird call the only sounds in this town was that of the wind. The sounds of market vendors, playing families and a loving community were no more.
The animals of this town always had the people of the animal shelter to count upon in times of need. It’s perhaps for this reason that many had made this particular building their home, even if it wasn’t the same as before.
The main road that led to and from Goulcrest was now indistinguishable from the surrounding landscape. Fallen trees block some of the paths while others continue to grow, their branches no longer prevented from growing into houses.
Many doors had collapsed as rot ate away their edges. The open doorways that were once perhaps very welcoming were now an eerie and unwelcoming sight. Paint crumbled off of the walls and were slowly replaced by vines that crawled their way towards the rooftops.
Llaneybyder, once a pleasant quiet town and home to friendly folk was now a mere shadow of its former glory. The wind in the trees and the creaking of wood were the new dominant sounds in a once lively community rich in sounds of joy and simple pleasures.
The animals of this town always had the people of the animal shelter to count upon in times of need. It’s perhaps for this reason that many had made this particular building their home, even if it wasn’t the same as before.
What was once a wide avenue that led to Llaneybyder was barely discernible through the weeds and grasses that had reclaimed it. Broken branches and leaves cover the roads inside the town while the tall grasses of the unkempt gardens sway in the wind.
Some doors were shut tightly, others were broken down. Some forcefully, others had simply collapsed under their own weight as the elements continued to eat away at them. Many buildings stood precariously upright despite looking like they had no means to do so. It’d take just a slight nudge of a strong wind to tipple them all over.
Fernsworth, once a peaceful and growing community was now partially reclaimed by nature. The wind in the trees and the creaking of wood were the new dominant sounds in a once lively community rich in sounds of joy and simple pleasures.
Collapsed wooden walkways and a few sunken boats littered the relatively small docks. Some of the sunken boats had bird nests in them, but most were simply covered in shells and slowly reclaimed by nature.
What was once a wide avenue that led to Fernsworth was barely detectable beneath layers of dust, sand, shrubs and leaves. The wind gently sways the tall grasses in the abandoned gardens while wild bushes make their claim on every acre not taken by the grass.
Doors were boarded up tightly and some showed signs of painted symbols with meanings known only to those who put them there, but whoever put them there’s long gone too. Dry rot, vines and other undesired vegetation had taken the place of paint on most buildings and created their own kind of decoration.
Edinburgh, once bustling with life and brimming with light at this hour had been forsaken and left to rot alone. Silence had taken hold and would’ve been deafening were it not for the many animals that had made this place their home. Bird songs, rustling bushes and the occasional howl filled the air.
The clock-tower was somehow still rich with sounds, but it wasn’t its bells and gears as those had stopped working a long time ago. It was a flock of crows that had made this once great pillar their new home.
The now quiet road that led to Edinburgh was torn to pieces by the elements. Grass filled the labyrinth of cracks and sand covered whatever was left. Gardens once looked after and trimmed to perfection were now rough and overgrown, returning back to their chaotic natural state.
Most doors still stood in their frames as if nothing had changed. A few were ajar for one reason or another, perhaps left open in a hurry. Many walls and balconies had collapsed. Without proper maintenance and cleaning it was easy for rot and water to do their damage.
Lowestoft, once a major festival town and home to an amazing night lift was now a mere distant memory of better times. The many sounds of wild animals who’ve made their home in this town are carried in the wind and give it a new sense of liveliness and vibrancy.
The clock-tower was somehow still rich with sounds, but it wasn’t its bells and gears as those had stopped working a long time ago. It was a flock of crows that had made this once great pillar their new home.
What was once a busy roadway that led to Lowestoft was frail and no longer able to support anything or anybody without the risk of collapsing under their weight. Dry grass, dying bushes and withering flowers are all that’s left of the once well kept gardens.
Most doors were either completely gone or mere remnants of rotten wood and rusty metal. The open doorways looked eerie as only darkness showed within. Many walls and balconies had collapsed. Without proper maintenance and cleaning it was easy for rot and water to do their damage.
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