A strange hum sound, like tinnitus in my ear, the ghostly moaning through the metal staircase.....crunch, crunch, crunch, as I walked across the shingle bed.
All around I'm being watched, bare and brutal dead fortresses lay empty and lonely like mamouth tomb stones, anxious and mesmerized as the horizon meets the endless sky.
Where did all those people go, they were figments of our imagination, a forgotten sad and lonely world, lay distorted like an aperition.
Metal strewn like broken limbs, tell stories of the danger, no one knows about the place, as it's Englands best kept secret.
Very poetic and a good taster of what is to come.
ReplyDeleteDid you resolve the Name Tag? etc etc.