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. Dry rot, vines and other undesired vegetation had taken the place of paint on most buildings and created their own kind of decoration.
Hythe, once a hub of modern housing and technological developments 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.
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 an odd sense of harmony as nature reclaimed what was theirs and resettled an old balance.
Remnants of packages and magazines still lay at some of the doorsteps, unopened and long forgotten. At least the animals got some use out of them. Many buildings stood precariously upright despite looking like they had no means to do so. It’d take just a slight nudge of a strong wind to tipple them all over.
Wakefield, once a peaceful and growing community had become nothing more than a painful memory. The wind in the trees and the creaking of wood were the new dominant sounds in a once lively community rich in sounds of joy and simple pleasures.
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.
Were it not for the animals that had made their home in many of the buildings this town would’ve surely been a far more unsettling sight. But there was something oddly poetic about nature reclaiming what was once theirs to begin with.