Enigma Craving

 


The once jam-packed roads that led to Briar Glen was torn to pieces by the elements. Grass filled the labyrinth of cracks and sand covered whatever was left. 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 roof tiles lay in the streets and gardens and crusty, dry paint faded from walls and fences.


Briar Glen , once a pleasant quiet town and home to friendly folk had become a forgotten relic of the past. 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 lighthouse was once a beacon in multiple senses of the word. The once bright light on the outskirts of town was now merely a broken pillar and the perfect spot for nesting birds who gladly took advantage of this.


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 awful feeling of hopelessness you couldn't escape from. Even if those who lived here returned too much had been lost already and it'd never be the same again.

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