Scotley
Hero
The tomb-like silence that had settled over them was broken only occasionally by the howl of a lonesome animal somewhere, or the piercing crash of falling icicles, doomed to fall to their destruction by the ponderous weight of their icy forms.
The Constables shudder as the icy wind bites into them, the utter chill easily piercing their flimsy and feeble winter garments. They had never realized that Clayfields could seem so totally desolate when there were stacks and stacks of tenements looming over them, but now the run-down buildings in various states of disrepair took on a menacing aspect, windows and doorways becoming the darkened facial features of the caricatures of demonic faces towering over the Constables along both sides of the streets, while the tenements further away down the shabby streets began to look more and more like facets of a graveyard -- those in the middle distance seeming like mausoleums and the far-distant ones appearing as mere headstones from their present vantage.
The Constables shudder as the icy wind bites into them, the utter chill easily piercing their flimsy and feeble winter garments. They had never realized that Clayfields could seem so totally desolate when there were stacks and stacks of tenements looming over them, but now the run-down buildings in various states of disrepair took on a menacing aspect, windows and doorways becoming the darkened facial features of the caricatures of demonic faces towering over the Constables along both sides of the streets, while the tenements further away down the shabby streets began to look more and more like facets of a graveyard -- those in the middle distance seeming like mausoleums and the far-distant ones appearing as mere headstones from their present vantage.