The horse slowed as they approached. Some of the buidings had been tall, four or five stories. Now, none of them stood above three. Paned windows stared at her with jagged teeth. The walls looked rotten, not with moisture or moss or mold, but with dry rot. They were simply softening and turning to dust. With its thick neck arched, the horse walked down the center street, and Henrietta stared at unhinged doors and collapsing windows. A few of the larger structures had burned, but their blackened bones still staggered towrd the sky, remembering, if no one else did, what they had been.
- Chapter 16 of Dandelion Fire, book 2 of the "100 Cupboards" trilogy
By N. D. Wilson
Very favorites. When I finish re-reading the trilogy for the 3rd time, I will write a review about each book.