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. Dry rot, vines and other undesired vegetation had taken the place of paint on most buildings and created their own kind of decoration.
The art gallery was once the cultural pride and joy of this town and tourists flocked to see the art displayed here. Now it was home to a flock of doves who’ve destroyed most art pieces in their ignorance of what it once meant to so many people.
The more time would pass the more the traces of those who lived here will disappear. Even now there were only remnants left, it’d be only a short while until there was nothing left. But not all was lost. In a way the legacy of this town lived on through the animals that lived here now, the spirit was still alive albeit in a different manner.
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. Broken roof tiles lay in the streets and gardens and crusty, dry paint faded from walls and fences.
Swadlincote, once a peaceful and growing community was now a mere shadow of its former glory. The creaking of wood and grinding of metal on metal were the only sounds in this town now. They were disturbing noises in a disturbing environment.
The once tranquil peace of mind people found in the park was now found by cats enjoying the sunshine and tall grasses. With nothing and nobody to bother them they had grown into a huge community of their own.
No matter how you looked at it this town was an eerie sight to behold. Lives forgotten, perhaps completely ruined and there was barely anything to show for it. But there was something oddly poetic about nature reclaiming what was once theirs to begin with.