This is one of my actual writing pieces

I’ve frequently said I’m a writer (that is not very good at grammar). I post many meme albums, graveyard clearings, synesthesia art, and personal stories. I’ve also shared some of my poetry. But I’ve never shared any substantial writings of mine, minus the one I did on the universe almost a year ago.

I mostly didn’t post them because Imgur isn’t a writing hub. It’s not a place to post long stories. However, as I am posting a lot more about myself, I thought I would share one little snippet of mine. If it turns out to be lengthy and annoying, I will take it down.

This is a serious piece, unlike the lighthearted posts I usually make on here. It’s about a fictional ghost town. The full tale is much longer, but I shortened it a good amount because I’m not sure how well a lengthy story will be received yet.

A bright sun still falls onto an overgrown city, that has long since been abandoned. What was once a prosperous town filled with the sounds of chattering people, bicycles, cars, and the usual ambiance, is replaced with an eerie silence. On occasion there’s the rustling of leaves, or the groaning of the rusted swing sets in the abandoned parks being pushed by the wind. Mostly, it’s just silence.

Birds don’t build nests here. Deer only trot on the outer perimeter. Even the vegetation is limited to tangled branches, and various shades of lichen sprawling across the stone walls of the remaining buildings.

Something happened. No one speaks of it. It was devastating both physically and psychologically. The resulting wound punctured the soul so deep, the only way to heal was to relinquish this place to Father Time – to move onward and leave this barren city behind as a traumatic memory to eventually be forgotten.

Eventually, it will be. Mother Nature will drown this place in her greenery, and Father Time will burden every neglected man-made surface until it crumbles into rubble and rust-colored dust. However, this inevitable outcome has decades to go. At the moment, there are a few who still remember that this city still exists, and the reason why it is in decay – though they are still too burdened to tell the tale.

Some who still remember come out to visit the overgrown grave of warm memories and thriving dreams. They hop over broken fences, untangle themselves from the thorny vines, and muffle their sobs as they look out at the ruins of what was, and what will never be again.

It’s especially heartbreaking and eerie when you delve deeper into the aging ghost town. A mourner’s heavy and bereaved footsteps echo off of every surface within the dead heart of this community. The place looks as if it is a moment away from being refilled with life again. Books lay open on school desks, blankets are peeled off of the mattress that are still protected by their fitted sheets.

Children’s toys lay on the floor. Little tea party sets sit on the tables, with the chairs pushed out, like they’d only stepped away for a second. Coffee mugs rest on rotted cork coasters, and some even have powdered residue at the bottom. This place was once a beating heart that has long since lost its blood supply.

When those who remember venture back home, they take one final look over their shoulder. A faint sun still lowers itself into the ground of an overgrown city, that has long since been abandoned. It’s a hollowed out shell, filled with painful memories.

A permanently asphyxiating settlement, waiting for the breath of returning life that is never going to come.