Some doors had collapsed or were perhaps destroyed by looters or animals as time passed. Either way they left a welcoming entrance for animals. Clothing, home appliances and other belongings were left lost and broken outside some of the homes. They were of no use to anyone anymore.
Woodhurst, once a growing town on the rise to a better future had become a forgotten relic of the past. 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 main hotel has had a few esteemed guests over the years, but it was now decrepit and starting to collapse bit by bit. A few animals still dare to wander here, but most wisely stay away from the fragile walls.
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 an odd sense of harmony as nature reclaimed what was theirs and resettled an old balance.
Doors were broken, rotten and in most cases barely a door at all. Whether this was the work of looters, animals or the elements was unclear, but it didn’t really matter. Window panes hung perilously from their hinges and here and there drapes had been flung out by the wind.
Ilragorn , once a major festival town and home to an amazing night lift had been forsaken and left to rot alone. 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 police station once offered those in need and danger the protection they needed, but all this station can offer now is a home to animals and a shelter from the rain. On the bright side at least the cells were empty.
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 there was an odd sense of harmony as nature reclaimed what was theirs and resettled an old balance.