Dirty and haunted, in the middle of nowhere, lays the Moor of Yorkshire. It is a place so far away from civilization that blanks people’s faces when its name is brought up in daily chatters. It is also where heaven and hell collides, and separated by the cold barren moors, two once glorious and significant estates.
Dilapidated walls, grotesque carvings, the gigantic but shallow stone-house by the name of Wuthering Heights, or hell. Surrounded by penetrating coldness, and stuffed with patches of dirt and evil, the stone mansion is no different to a demonic, isolated world where dreams vanish and hopes disappear. “A range of gaunt thorns all stretching their limb one way, as if craving alms of the sun”, Built to endure harsh storms of the dark, the lifeless mansion with bleak vegetation sits on top of the moors, with soggy and infertile land underneath that buries the ashes of vicious, suffering souls.