Cadogan Cain had a feeling, dark and ominous. It’s what brought him here to this spot, at this time. He was leaning against the door of his car parked in front of one of the many abandoned buildings along north Main Street in Niagara Falls, New York. He had the window down and was listening to the police scanner while he was cleaning the lens on his camera. There was the usual chatter about another broken window in a long closed business and a drunk and disorderly on Pine Avenue.
The amber light from the street lamps cast an eerie glow over everything and suddenly gave him a foreboding sense of doom. He had these feelings before when he was young. A friend told him they were premonitions; his mother said it was his Welsh ancestors speaking to him. Cad just knew it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
He glanced around at some of the boarded up storefronts decorated with mindless graffiti. It seemed to him that vandals had added insult to injury on a once proud city. He hated what had happened to his hometown in the years he was away. When he left the city was vibrant, if not a little long in the tooth. When he returned, twenty years and two wars later, he drove for hours around his familiar haunts only to discover that they were boarded up or torn down.
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