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. A few rusted cars still stood in their driveways, though most were stripped of all their spare parts.
Chepstow, once rich with life, hopes, dreams and aspirations was now partially reclaimed by nature. The air which was once filled with the many sounds of a growing community had grown eerily quiet. The silence was only broken up by the occasional animal sound and gust of wind.
In an almost sick sense of irony the museum, once home to relics from the past discovered and recovered by archaeologists from around the world, was now once again lost and forgotten. Waiting to be found by those who come next.
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 there was an odd sense of harmony as nature reclaimed what was theirs and resettled an old balance.
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. Broken roof tiles lay in the streets and gardens and crusty, dry paint faded from walls and fences.
Hempholme, once a pleasant quiet town and home to friendly folk was now a mere shadow of its former glory. Silence had taken the place of the sound of playing children, talking neighbors and the sounds of a working community. The silence was deafening.
The future looked bright to the students of this town. The school was part of their every day. Jokes were told and laughs were had, but now there was only silence and forgotten memories.
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.
