This Is Not My SkinMature



Tall, ominous buildings loom over the dirty street below, looking down at the middle class citizens; judging them. Windows are the only ways to peer into the buildings, showing the broken furniture, the piles of unfinished work and the old, over-used computers.

The people walking the grubby streets below never smile; they are all filled with disgust for themselves and their town. They are embarrassed to be living the lives they live. Wearing dark clothes and hats, trying to fit in with the shadows cast not only by the buildings, but by the tall, high hopes of the children, destined to live in the poverty that has been caused by the life of their ancestors.

Rubbish floats around in the wind: little, unimportant, crumpled pieces of paper; or bags soaring as high as the buildings. The only weather that suits this monotonous town is rain, falling angrily to the ground, pelting citizens with sadness.


There is nothing remotely appealing about this town.


The dreary lives led by the inhabitants push them into a life of crime, which adds to the horrendous demeanour of this city. No one likes to go here, but no one can leave.

The loudest sounds here are the shouts of angry teenagers, and the loud, blaring sirens of the police, signalling another person left to the horror of crime.

It used to be nice here; people living on the streets, tidying their gardens and cleaning their houses; neighbours were always friends, and the streets were always clean, even after the gatherings that friends had hosted in the beautiful streets. This is just a distance memory; a picture left on the ground of the streets, stamped out of existence; the last piece of colour, diminished by the citizens ofWalker Street.


I used to live here. Way before the terror had captured the town in its disgusting, inescapable claws. Before I had succumbed to the horror of the fantasy world I seem to be living in now.


But things had changed, and the streets had taken their gaudy, intimidating characteristics, and I had taken on a life I never would have wished on my worst enemy. Because this life is no fantasy.


It’s a nightmare…

The End

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