The once smooth network of roads that let to Pantmawr was barely detectable beneath layers of dust, sand, shrubs and leaves. 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. Clothing, home appliances and other belongings were left lost and broken outside some of the homes. They were of no use to anyone anymore.
Pantmawr, once rich with life, hopes, dreams and aspirations was now a mere shadow of its former glory. The sounds of insects, winds and creaking wood of trees which were once drowned out by the sounds of cars and people had returned as the dominant sounds once more.
The public pool was still full of water. Green, algae filled rain water. It was big enough to become a new home to several families of ducks, but it was eerily abandoned by even them.
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 even when all the buildings are finally taken by nature there was at least the knowledge that the animals wouldn’t have to leave and could continue their lives in peace.
The now quiet road that led to Putlochry was barely discernible through the weeds and grasses that had reclaimed it. 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.
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. Broken roof tiles lay in the streets and gardens and crusty, dry paint faded from walls and fences.
Putlochry, once home to thousands of families and counting was now a ghost town in the truest sense. 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.
Street after street of abandoned homes made for a terrifying thought. Each house was once a home, a home belonging to a family and now there was only emptiness. 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.
