repelispediathreehd

  The once jam-packed roads that led to Risteys was barely discernible through the weeds and grasses that had reclaimed it. The occasional animal can be heard rustling in the tall grasses of the unkempt gardens or hiding in the wild overgrown bushes. 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 cars and rusty pieces of metal littered some of the larger driveways, stripped from all but their most useless parts. Risteys, once a growing town on the rise to a better future was now a mere distant memory of better times. 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. 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 mo

  The once busy road that led to Clacton was unrecognizable as nature had begun reclaiming the now unused area. Gardens once looked after and trimmed to perfection were now rough and overgrown, returning back to their chaotic natural state. 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 cars and rusty pieces of metal littered some of the larger driveways, stripped from all but their most useless parts. Clacton, once rich with life, hopes, dreams and aspirations had become nothing more than a painful memory. Were it not for the occasional bird call the only sounds in this town was that of the wind. The sounds of market vendors, playing families and a loving community were no more. Noble men and women were once called upon from the fire station, ready to save whoever needed saving. Unfortunately this town couldn't be saved. Funnily enough it was mostly

  The road that led to and from Panshaw was barely detectable beneath layers of dust, sand, shrubs and leaves. Dust and debris littered the roads within town while unkempt gardens are cluttered with forsaken possessions. 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. There were signs of fires, in some cases it was merely a trail of soot and smoke above a window pane, in others it was a pile of ash where once a building stood. Panshaw, once a growing town on the rise to a better future was but a hollow shell of its former self. An eerie silence had taken over and was only interrupted by the cracking of wood in the wind and the occasional bird who had made its home in one of the many collapsed roofs. The fountain in the town square was still full of water, though without filtration it had turn green and overgrown with algae and other plants. But at the very least the ducks seemed to enjoy