Chenzhuang Village notoriously known as China’s ghost town and phantom malls were abandoned. The stadiums, shopping centres and hundreds of accommodation once completed were now left deserted and derelict. Buildings, left for the rats to scavenge at and debris left lying around to rot. No longer was there beautiful buildings looming over the small village, but empty and forlorn places for squatters to hide and take shelter.
As I watched the pale moon lie on its back whilst the midnight sky started to engulf the village in a blanket of darkness, a sense of melancholy enveloped me. Whilst the faint sound of the ancient street lamp was to be heard, I began to wonder what might have been. What I had done was transgressing the boundaries of society. I had gambled everything I had and lost them all. I had no husband, no family, and no friends. What I had done was truly unforgiveable. The only place that I could take refuge was in Chenzhuang Village, a small village made for industrialisation. The village was my saviour, a blessing from God; a place where I could seal my true identity from those who knew me.
Smells of pollution and debris littering the street wafted a foul smell through the air leaving a smoky trail of smog behind. Long gone was the autumnal colours that lit up the inky skies of grey; now left was a sea of darkness. Unbeknownst to me was that in a few hours my life would be changed forever: a spot of time, ‘the road not taken’, or in this case, taken, that would mark the beginning of the end.
I saw the scene unfold. Cautiously, a shady black silhouette stepped out from the depths of nothingness and peered around the corner of the damp derelict building. I could feel my heat rising in my body; a sense of stillness overcame me and left me feeling numb and helpless. Antique cobwebs were sucking me in, drawing you deeper into the depths of nothingness. The sickly smell of the rotting debris was filling the smoke ridden air and