Ashley D'Amour Utopia

     The cobblestone streets are busy. People smile and wave to one another, having short conversations as they waltz through the light snowfall.  Streetlights are covered in decorations for the upcoming holidays.  The townsfolk greet everyone they see, not shying away from strangers. There are brick buildings everywhere ranging from cozy book stores to modern chic apartments.  Candles are burning in every window, sparkling lights dress up every house.  Children go to bed every night with full stomachs and plenty of love in their hearts.   Stores are busy through out the day and into the evening, bakeries are bustling with people, museums are full of citizens eager to learn; there is no shortage of work and the people adore every job they've ever had.  Parks are found on every corner, with aloft verdant trees towering over wooden benches and lively ponds.  Neighbors greet each other every morning, some meet at the corner café to share a cup of coffee before they start a day of work.  The smell of cocoa beans and French vanilla waft through out the rooms full of cushioned leather couches and antique arm chairs.  Colleges are open, students filing in and out through out the day.  Ancient libraries with thousands of books hide away on every block.  The school bell rings and children trot out, beaming and waving at their parents as they come to collect them.  In the evening if you looked through a dining room window you would see a family sitting around together eating a filling dinner, or playing board games together by the fire.   At night the streets are quiet, except for the whistling of wind and soft sound of nearby birds as they chatter their way through the night.  Smiles are seen everywhere, never a tear in sight.

     The lights never work, darkness is upon the town day to night.  It is sparsely populated.  The few that live there barely speak, not interested in one another.  Citizens commute hours into the main city for work on a broken down bus, or just simply live on the streets eating scraps here and there.  Most of the street-livers are illiterate and have never attended a day of school in their lives. It is common for families to be spilt, at night you can hear screaming and crying from depressed houses.  Children are never seen, every once and awhile some will pass through in a car, but they shield their eyes from the disaster.   Abandoned buildings are more common than occupied ones.  Windows are broken and chimneys never full of smoke.  The only open buildings are a quaint rusted up diner and a dingy bar that is never visited.  The rooftops seem to sag and are on the verge of collapse.  Door hinges eerily squeak as they are opened and closed.  The winter climate is bitter, always at least twenty degrees below zero.  In the summer it is scorchingly hot, the average being one hundred and eight degrees Fahrenheit.  Rats and vermin take the streets at night, creeping to and fro. Bits of paper and grimy pieces of trash litter the sidewalks everywhere.  The city is almost abandoned itself, hanging on to life by the ends of its fingernails, just waiting for the fall.