The loneliest of heart, and the morbid of place...

The morbid of a place, the strewn of things in its bits and pieces, the crackle silence of an abandon alley, the expressionless face of individuals, and the creepy beat of the heart in the shadow of darkness, all sum up to a point, they are still alive and ticking. With sombre look, and non-haste walk and talk, and the gleam of half-shut eyes, they seem to belong to a life long forgotten. It has become a nobody's town now. But it is a god forsaken town that seem to forbid anybody to be near or come any closer. Is it because of the sin of the pasts, or sin of traitors that once roam and control the seas and the settlement near the rivers? Are they the grandchildren that curses seem to stay and stick and make them crawl in the hottest of heat. Are they?