This City

That’s the thing about this city. It used to be something better. Beyond gothic churches, concealed in thick ivy that crawled out of every crack and crevice. More than crumbling stone and cracked concrete ever so slowly succumbing to the hand of time. 

Camera at her side, Livy walked along Deception’s Path-the one so intensely laced with weeds and overgrowth. It certainly didn’t deserve to be called something quite so deceiving as a path. But deception’s touch fit like a glove, for the weeds attempted to lead you down misleadingly inviting trails that directed you in pointless circles. 

Of course, this would be quite a better task-maybe even worth it-if Livy knew her way around. 

She didn’t. 

Which was a shame, although lack of experience had never stopped Livy before. 

The city was just up ahead-abandoned, lost to the inevitable hand of time. Crumbling to dust with every passing day. 

A beautiful, haunting place. 

Livy brushed aside the branches in front of her with the back of her hand, the twigs digging into her flesh, throbbing pink streaks on pale skin. She bit her lip, mostly in aggravation. 

She should have brought gloves. 

Maybe she should have brought someone to talk too. A companion. 

Nah. Her lips curved into a gentle grin. 

Exploring was her time, and hers alone. Getting away from everyone-everything-and venturing into places unknown, camera in hand, was her coping technique for dealing with...everything.

And just up ahead, if Livy could make her way down this treacherous path, was a city. 

She knew it was there-for she had visited how long ago? Thirteen years? When “Adventuring” with Dad had been the weekend’s ideal getaway. 

Minutes passed as she waded through the waist-high brush, over a tiny trickling creek, and under a fallen tree. She stopped, tilting her head up, attempting to peer over the leafy trees. A deteriorating steeple peeked out from somewhere beyond the emerald green leaves, fuzzy through the fog. 

  Like a dream. A scene from a movie. Serene. 

 Livy picked up pace, wisps of black hair escaping her messy bun. Yellow raincoat, defense against the damp air, caught on the brush as she moved. But she kept on, her coat pulling free as she pushed through the overgrown mess of forest growth. Her camera bag thumped against her hip as she jogged through the trees, hiking boots cracking twigs and bending weeds underneath heavy soles. She shoved aside a branch and ducked underneath yet another fallen tree, reeking of decay, its dead bark studded with patches of oyster mushrooms. 

 And there-in front of her-was the city. The town. 

  It had no name-although once, once when it was still inhabited, when it was not crawling with wildlife and ivy-it must have had a name. 

   The city and its streets belonged to the weeds and the forest life now. 

   Livy tilted her head to the right, peering at the rusted street sign. She stepped closer to it, squinting as she attempted to make out the street number that had once been printed across it. 

   41st Avenue? 47th? 

  She licked her lips and unzipped her camera bag, pulling out the large black camera. It fit in her hands so perfectly, as though it was made to be there. She stepped back and held the camera up, her eyes searching for just the right angle, just the right light. She pressed her index finger down on the button, the camera clicking happily as it captured the aesthetic of the abandoned 41st Avenue. 

 Livy peered down at the camera screen, holding a hand to the side of the camera to block the glare. Not quite satisfied, she snapped a few more quick pictures before hanging the camera around her neck and proceeding down the street. Her head turned left and right, scanning the various buildings. 

  Churches, bakeries, post offices, banks… some of which were covered in the occasional graffiti art. But around the corner-

  A graveyard. 

  Livy paused, standing just outside the rusty metal gate. The entrance to rows of graves. The weeds had claimed most of the gravestones, so the graveyard was mostly a tiny field with rough grey stone peeking out every few feet. 

   Creepy. Delightfully creepy. Almost like a horror movie-if it wasn’t for the beautifully serene, quiet feel settled over the entire city. 

   Livy placed a hand on the gate, the frigid cold metal sending goosebumps prickling up her arms and a shiver down her back. She strained her muscles, attempting to force the gate to move. A pointless endeavor, of course. The gate had long since rusted still. She brushed her hands off on her jeans and swung herself over the low fence. 

  She treaded through the weeds, making a path of broken grass towards the nearest gravestone. She swept the brush aside, staring down at the words chiseled across it, still visible through the cracks and weathering of the stone. 

   Robert Marney - 1859-1940: Not even the best of us can withstand the test of time 

   Livy rose her head, standing there, surrounded on all sides by crumbling buildings and cracked stone. Abandoned homes and empty storefronts. A city destined to crumble away to dust.

 Livy smiled. A mournful smile. 

  Not even the best of us can withstand the test of time. 

  She pulled her camera out again, her gaze scanning the area for the best angle. She stepped back, kneeling on the grass, peering through the camera’s lens, hardly breathing as she held the camera steady. 

  The camera clicked, and Livy smiled to herself as she peered down at the camera’s small screen. 

   Simply a reminder. 

   She stood up, brushing the dirt and grass off her yellow raincoat. Far off in the distance, thunder softly rumbled, the noise filling the air with a gentle reminder that the clouds were becoming weary of holding in the rain. She tilted her head to the sky, opening her lungs to take in the crisp air, heavy with humidity and the earthy scent of rain. 

   A drop hit the tip of her nose, and she blinked, brushing it away with the back of her hand. And as more droplets fell, she slid her camera back into its bag, zipping it tight. Rain dropped from the sky, creating damp, crisp pattering as the tiny raindrops hit the leafy foliage and buildings around her. Livy smiled as she reached behind her, pulling up the hood on her raincoat over her hair. 

  She approached the old gate, swinging herself over the low metal fence and making her way down 41st street, embracing the rain. 

   Rain would add to an epic photoshoot. 

   The city had once been so beautiful, so full of energy. People had lived here, called it home. Once, before the road into the city had been claimed by the forest and the town had been removed from the map. Now it was nothing but a home for the animals and plants, a canvas for graffiti, and the place for Livy to explore, camera in hand. 

  Not even the best of us can withstand the test of time.

   That’s the thing about this city. It couldn't either.