Forgotten.

I leisurely ambled up to the large, rustic and scratched door. It hung from it's hinges, looming over my head. Rust had found its way up onto the door knob and from there gone on to explore the large brass letterbox overflowing with ancient letters.
I knocked. Don't ask me why, I wasn't thinking. The few short knocks sounded like an earthquake. It echoed all along the street and bounced back at me from the deserted flats and houses.
The cobwebs fluttered in the wind, privately dancing to a silent tune not audible to anyone but themselves. I felt isolated. I was alone.
The dust had started to settle, laying its fragile body down ready for the harsh winter that lay ahead. The long, hot summer was finally coming to a close and the leaves on the trees were beginning to turn crisp then slowly begin their descent to the hard tarmac that lay beneath them.
There was no grass, the grass had gone with the people many years ago. Did they know they were going? Did they mean to leave me behind? 
I turned, no one was here. Why was I here? My scuffed trainers made fresh tracks in the dormant dust, like the fist steps in a new patch of snow. The grey steps had not changed, the ivy had grown, wandering around the aimlessly, creating new pathways. It had covered the sides but the mundane stone was preserved somehow, never changing.
I had not cried in months, but now i felt alive again as a single tear formed the source of a meandering river that cascaded down my cheek. Nothing made me feel alive anymore, yet in that moment I could almost feel my heart pushing aside the piles of cold stone and dust to beat again.
Alone. Thats what i am. I am truly alone. I have no one, no where. 
I sank down on the steps, warmed in the sun and threw my head back, screaming at the sky, at nothing. 
Suddenly a long moan cried out from one of the floorboards inside the house, then another, then another.
Was anyone there? Were they? The brass door knob screeched and screamed as it's joints turned, very slowly, very  carefully. 
The door swung open, it scraped the floor, cutting deep wounds into the soil...but no one stood before me. Nothing was there, just in my head. But the people are still there, everything is still there, but me. How do I know? I visit my grave each and every day, and I mourn for my family and for my friends as I know they grieved for me.
I know how I died, I know. Do they? Did they ever find my corpse? Did they? 
The large monstrosity that is an ocean is a dangerous place, it's dark, never ending depths are not ones to be explored. 
I was alone that night, under the blindingly bright moon. The tides lapping at my feet, tickling my toes before running back towards their home. My eyes found their way out onto the black abyss. The white horses galloped, calling me. How could I have been alone when I felt at peace for the first time? I walked, I walked and I didn't stop walking. I am still walking now along the ocean bed and I will never cease to walk. I am but a child, but I am at peace now.