Fernsby

You can smell the scent of saltwater as you get out of your car and can hear the crash of waves on the cliff side. You think of how bad this area is for a bustling town. The cliff is a death trap, you peer over the edge and see the dagger like rocks jutting out just below. You turn back swiftly as the heights make your stomach churn and gaze at the small town that’s laid out before you.

Fernsby.

You remember someone telling you to come here but at the moment you couldn’t pinpoint who exactly. You’re too engrossed in how the town looks, it is shrouded in a thin layer of fog and it gives it an eerie look. Some of the houses look poorly taken care of and rundown, vines creep up the sides of a few. A hand full look as if they’re crumbling but the lights still shine through the cracked windows. and you can see things clearer and clearer as the fog recedes. Flowerbeds line the houses, as if a last ditch effort to make it look somewhat pleasing.