Some doorways seemed in relative decent condition while others were destroyed and were indistinguishable from other collapsed walls and piles of rubble. Window panes hung perilously from their hinges and here and there drapes had been flung out by the wind.
Garen’s Well , once bustling with life and brimming with light at this hour was now partially reclaimed by nature. Silence had taken the place of the sound of playing children, talking neighbors and the sounds of a working community. The silence was deafening.
In a strange sense of irony it was the library that was full of sounds now. Scattered pages of books, scratched wood and broken computers had become the home and playground of a huge community of cats.
It was a strange feeling to be in the footsteps of so many lives now long forgotten and not knowing what became of the people who once spent their lives here. But there was an awful feeling of hopelessness you couldn’t escape from. Even if those who lived here returned too much had been lost already and it’d never be the same again.
