04-15-2010, 09:57 PM
Funny how Halifax lay there, desolate, rather lonely. The bridges still stood of course, tall, majestic, layers of green paint creating a rather camo sort of theme. The smoke stacks too, the three red and white striped pillars broke the skyline remaining as an eerie testament of a time before. The harbor would take a few more years to fully recover from the decade of pollution that had been poured into it, though it was rapidly improving. Soon enough, one might dare to dip a toe into those brimy waters.
Cautiously, but with utter curiosity, the female in her feral stooped optime form, slipped down a disheveled boardwalk. The planks had long ago turned a deep fetid green, though somehow, they still retained their shape, though hazardous to walk too calmly on. The Victorian buildings, having survived the Halifax Explosion, still braved time, as the glass office buildings had since shattered and commenced to crumble. Of course now, nature was reclaiming the city, grass and weeds now replaced potholes and asphalt. The Gardens in the heart of the city had burst from its iron gates, and seemed to have spread like wild fire down the city streets, transforming it into a true urban jungle.
She couldn’t help but get drawn here, the downtown core of the once sprawling city. There had been nothing like this on the southern shore of Newfoundland. Tiny fishing communities had been desecrated, and there stood no tall structures of brick and steel, or none that she had travelled far enough to see. Here was fear and marvel, combined with the salty breeze she lived on. Though the air here was stagnate to what she had known before, and the territory, utterly alien. She lived on a land of vast rocky planes, and scattered pines. Here there were leaves, and hills rather then boulders and craggy wilderness.
Huffing she traced her way to a sturdy ledge, green eyes cast out to survey the ocean which she had loved and followed.
Cautiously, but with utter curiosity, the female in her feral stooped optime form, slipped down a disheveled boardwalk. The planks had long ago turned a deep fetid green, though somehow, they still retained their shape, though hazardous to walk too calmly on. The Victorian buildings, having survived the Halifax Explosion, still braved time, as the glass office buildings had since shattered and commenced to crumble. Of course now, nature was reclaiming the city, grass and weeds now replaced potholes and asphalt. The Gardens in the heart of the city had burst from its iron gates, and seemed to have spread like wild fire down the city streets, transforming it into a true urban jungle.
She couldn’t help but get drawn here, the downtown core of the once sprawling city. There had been nothing like this on the southern shore of Newfoundland. Tiny fishing communities had been desecrated, and there stood no tall structures of brick and steel, or none that she had travelled far enough to see. Here was fear and marvel, combined with the salty breeze she lived on. Though the air here was stagnate to what she had known before, and the territory, utterly alien. She lived on a land of vast rocky planes, and scattered pines. Here there were leaves, and hills rather then boulders and craggy wilderness.
Huffing she traced her way to a sturdy ledge, green eyes cast out to survey the ocean which she had loved and followed.