Its heavy mist curls, traveling through the bustling roads. Down its foul alleys, where rats and mice play, taunting their victims in a too soon ending game. Every house and shop, cramped together with no air. The few trees and plants left, wilting, about to fall apart. The town’s factories spew never ending black smoke. Its meager streets crowded with many, all moving in a slow procession to their destination. Perhaps even their final one. Young children scamper about; pick pocketing any little thing they can find. Dogs and cats chase one another, no fear in their eyes as they dodge the steady stream of legs.
Carts and carriages squeal as they move forward. Horses nay and bleak bells jingle. A putrid smell clings to the air, never letting go. Dressed in rags, many sit on sidewalks, pleading with out no response. Straw and other filth lies everywhere, almost like a marsh. Everyone wades through it, without any care.
Despair seems to be the only hope. Heaven seems too much of a pain. This is the dying city, where the meager sun never shines. Where the grimy water pours through the sewers and the acid rains burns pale skin. Pale skin that has never seen the sun. Never hopes to either. This is the dying town, without no further hope.
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