The clouds cried soundless rain as a mute mother would cry for the loss of a child.
Empty windows of the misshapen houses containing nothing but blackness gazed forlornly out at the grey, dismal street.
Nothing disturbed the dust, no light invaded the shadows.
Gone were the days when living people walked those streets, when the friendly, rosy-cheeked flower sellers stood on the corners, when young children laughed and played in the bright sun amongst the sandy coloured buildings.
No one had lived here for many years.
Not even a single rat would ever scurry across the cobbled driveways or dart through the barren gardens which harboured nothing but a few straw-like stalks that would crumble like touchwood if anything were to try to grip them.
No weeds grew here.
No bird song could be heard.
No movement in this decaying place.
This place was dead.
The silence was shattered like delicate glass dropped to the floor by pounding footsteps and heavy, gasping breathing.
The wind picked up as if sensing the need to urge the person along.
Crimson blood mingled with the rain water on the girls face before dripping on to her badly torn white shirt, staining it further.
The cut on her forehead wasn't deep enough to be a serious problem but she would certainly need stitches later.
If she ever made it home alive.
Which was doubtful as she could already feel the hot breath of her pursuers on the back of her neck and could hear them panting like dogs.
Claws ripped at the hem of her ragged shirt, almost tearing it clean off her skinny torso.
She darted round a sharp turn and came to an abrupt halt.
A dead end.
"No, no, NO!"
Three pairs of yellow eyes glared out from the dimness, reflecting light that wasn't there.
The girl barely had time to draw breath before they were upon her.
It had been twenty years since Saya had fallen into a deep sleep, eighteen since the chiropterans had returned to wreck havoc on the human world.
It is not known when she will awaken, but it is prayed that that day shall come swiftly.