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A YOUTHFUL BUT MATURE GEORGIA COLLINS DRUG HER FEET THROUGH THE GALLERY GOURMET, she was embedded in layers of grime and ash. Flashes of the recent moments flooded the mind of Georgia; the explosion of train oil & co came out of nowhere. The young girl was visiting her parents at work with plates of cookies, she walked in with a smile on her face not knowing of the tragedy to come.
Instantly Georgia was given protective gear, thick gloves, and a gas mask. Everything was going dexterously for the first ten minutes, Georgia did what she was told and stood away from the rig. Anything could happen at any given moment, their could be a malfunction within the systems.
Which is exactly what it was, the rig became more than defective in a matter of seconds. The systems weren't cooperating or responding to the signals given by the workers.
Due to the neglect of any mending the systems had begun to override causing the entire facility to implode.
As a result, it took a majority of the human life with it.
Thirteen year old Georgia felt that she had nothing left, everything left her when the building exploded to bits. And she watched it fall, she couldn't do anything to help. The only thing that swarmed her mind at that point was to run, keep running. Fast and Far.
Georgia's footsteps had softened as she stepped into a rather dark alley, not a single lamppost had emitted even a simple glimmer. Goosebumps travelled up her body, the nimble hairs that laid peacefully on the back of her neck rose in alertness.
A pairs of eyes filled to the brim with greed study the girl from her third floor window, she saw how lost the mere teenager looked. Maybe she needed a place to stay, at no cost.
For now...
Mrs. Scrubitt didn't think twice before carrying herself down the many flights to stairs to catch the girl on the front step. The large wooden door swung open, the wood so sharp you could gain yourself too many splinters to count. An older plump woman took her stance peaking her head outside interrupting Georgia's train of thought.
"Hello Dear One, do you need a place to rest for the evening." Georgia's doe eyes are colored a dark yet enchanting brown, in alarm they widen staring at the odd woman to her right. When Mrs. Scrubitt doesn't get a response she goes to speak again. "How about a warm bath? You seem too filthy to function."
Georgia took a few more seconds before she could work up the courage to speak to the stranger. "Who're you?" was the only thing the young girl had spoken since the accident. The sound of her voice was moderately raspy, a common side affect of inhaling large amounts of smoke.
