Once a popular campsite for families, the elderly, fishers and people just wanting a quiet relaxing holiday spot, The Valley had become a place of abandonment. Shrilly overgrown weeds and grass dripped with fresh morning due – shrubs had mutated into bushes and the trees filtered sunlight.Bugs of all races infested the land – along with pest animals, such as rats and rabbits. The buildings – Kitchen, Laundry, The Hall, Toilets and Showers – became a haven for graffiti and gangs needing a hideout.
Snakes nest where campers camped – hatching their offspring into the wild.
An old, leaky wooden boat lies overturned and broken next to a green lake with rotting docks. Moss grows like bacteria on the old damp wood. There is no movement in the water – no fish can be caught here anymore.
Rabbits hop along the gravel, stopping to sniff the air before going about their day. The Valley is no longer a camping spot – it had become a place of danger and mystery. The title of natural beauty had dissolved as gangs vandalized the grounds and Mother Nature used her powerful forces to break down the surroundings, and cover them with slick weeds.
A small raindrop falls from the sky and breaks against a small stone. Clouds of gray and black gather above, preparing to release their tears. Raindrops start to fall, then get more rapid to create a fierce pattern. The small forest of overgrown grass becomes a seaweed substitute. The pouring rain forms rivers and lakes. Rats scatter to shelter.
This is The Valley at its worst. Vandalized, overgrown, infested, no longer loved, groomed or enjoyed.
The rain begins to ease. It leaves behind puddles, soggy mud and slipping banks. Sun twinkles though dripping trees, and animals begin to creep. Remaining water slips away, but droplets hang from every blade of grass, leaf and branch.