Sanctuary || Starter || justamindgam3 || Closed RP
Officials have said to seek shelter and evacuate the London area immediately. Get out of all of England if you can, this storm shows no signs of stopping.
Molly’s memory worked particularly well in times of danger. The words of the reporter played through her head as she drove through the crowded streets. The winds had picked up terrible speeds, umbrellas flew through the air, their owners miles away and soaking wet. Every building she passed was boarded up with the doors nailed shut.
She was grimly reminded of the war era that she had learned about in school, where these extra precautions had to be taken during the bomb threats.
Evacuate the London area immediately.
What do you think I’m trying to do? she answered her own mind harshly in her head.
She slammed her hands on the steering wheel in frustration, she was the last in the line of traffic to get out of the city. She wished that she still had her furry feline friend to keep her company but Toby had been sent away before the storm had become critical to live with her cousin.
The cars inched forward slowly, the windshield wipers on each vehicle seemed to be in sync as the rain continued to pour down. Molly gripped the icy cold wheel and turned the heat up.
After an eternity in Molly’s mind, she made it to the edge of the street that led off into open road. Just as she was about to cross the painted line her car suddenly shut off.
"What?" she asked aloud, she turned the key in the ignition twice. The car would sputter to life giving her hope that it would start again but then quickly went dead again. "That’s just bloody great!"
She unbuckled her seatbelt, pulled a heavy poncho over her head that was in the passenger seat and exited the car cautiously.
The wind was fierce, nearly blowing her back into her car, she fought against it crouched beside her car using the door as a shield from the gail. Where else could she go? There had to be a place that could keep her safe until the storm was over.
She scanned the street, the rain making her vision blurry. This street was burned in her memory, she had walked it when she was a teenager. Her father had told her something, something important.
"Danger can happen at any time, just remember, the cellar on the corner is always open."
The cellar? She had seen an old wine brewery when she first turned on this street. It was abandoned but it wasn’t boarded up like the other buildings. Did he mean the wine cellar?
As Molly worked this out she realized she had all ready stood up and was going to close her door. She kept it unlocked just in case it would serve as refuge to anyone else and made her way back down the street, fighting against the strong current.
The wine brewery was an old faded red brick building that sat nestled between a bookshop and a tattoo pallor. Molly pushed the door open and it swung forward with ease. She stepped inside and removed her soaking wet poncho, dropping it on the floor and shutting the door, muffling the wind outside.
It was designed like a restaurant inside, there was a bar on one side and tables on the other, all covered with thick layers of dust. Behind the bar was a door with a sign on it that said: No Admittance.
Molly stepped over the bar and felt her feet crunch on broken glass. She was lucky to be wearing tennis shoes. She turned the knob of the door and with some effort pushed it open.
There was a set of stairs behind it leading down into darkness. She felt for a light switch and saw a string dangling ahead of her. She pulled on it and a single light bulb cast a yellowish glow on the hallway.
"The cellar," she said to herself, "Hello is anyone else in here?" she called out.
Cautiously, she walked down the stone steps, there were twenty steps in total. She reached a wooden door and opened it. She was met with another dark room and another string hanging from the ceiling. She closed this door as well, wanting to separate herself as much as possible from the storm and pulled the string.
The lightbulb illuminated part of the room, on the wall directly in front of Molly was a wine holder filled with an array of bottles, all from different countries according to the labels beneath them. The walls on either side of her were bare, covered in intricate patterned wallpapers that depicted purple vineyards and the bright sun.
Molly had not properly seen the actual sun in a few weeks. She hugged herself, partially out of comfort and partially out of the need to keep warm. She huddled against one of the murals and sat with her head in her knees.
