I found a ghost town while driving though the midwest. I spent the day wading through dead grass and exploring the vacant homes. A rusty water tower lay on the outskirts of the town and the yards were littered with old cars.
New life took over the town. Birds had built nests in many of the homes and there was a dead lamb in one. As it grew dark it began to rain. I picked the house with the cleanest bed and slept inside as I listened to rain drip through holes in the ceiling and patter on the roof. I woke up early to the sounds of raccoons near me on the stairs.
This is actually really scary once you think about it. There are newspapers and lightbulbs and a painting on the desk in the second picture. There’s a trailer in the fourth, along with numerous cars. There are pots and personal effects in the second to last, and the place is trashed. What made everyone leave in such a hurry that they didn’t have time to grab what was dear to them, or even leave in their cars? Why would they leave them there, and not even consider driving away? What madness inflicted all of the residents to simply leave, without taking anything?