A horse strolled riderless down an empty street. Old lampposts hummed on dutifully, illuminating a forgotten town. If the dust could talk it would hardy be able to remember any stories it might tell. People used to flock to this quaint, rustic town in the hillsides every summer. The area offered a variety of enjoyable activities and natural attractions. It seemed everyone came for a different reason, but always at the same time, and never permanently. Gradually, the visitors slowed until they stopped coming entirely. The allure had run out. The geographic beauty that the land boasted could not compete with whatever had replaced it. Businesses closed down, and the few year-round residents moved away. Without any human supervision, the land was left to its own designs. Sometimes, the greatest art requires total secrecy.