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Original writing - It was a dark, gloomy Sunday evening and I was walking along Acacia avenue.
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Thu Aug 21 2003
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Original writing It was a dark, gloomy Sunday evening and I was walking along Acacia avenue. This avenue used to house all of the old factory workers but a sinister event occurred causing it to shut down. On either side of the road stood a terrace of red brick dwellings. Most of these dwellings had smashed windows, bolted doors and dark, rusty, iron gates and most of them hadn't had a soul living in them for many years except for the odd squatter and drug addict. The piercing sound of a police siren could often be heard nearby. I walked briskly on as this part of town was unfamiliar to me and also rather daunting. The floor was scattered with old, decaying cigarette packets and litter. I reached the high fence at the end of the road which, encased inside was the old, deserted factory. I looked at it for a...
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