Santa’s Little Helper


Inside the back of a store atop a loft woke a young girl, no older than fourteen, in a jolt from what only one could assume as a nightmare. No matter…it didn’t work quite as well as she expected, out of one and into another. Covered head to toe in bundles of clothing she much closely resembled a heap of laundry with a defenseless puppy thrown in. Jessica’s frail body breathed heavily, hand to the side reaching out to clutch the wooden grip of her well used pickax to protect herself from the nightmare she woke up to. She was warm here, but the fact that her stomach was growling determined that she was going to have to get up instead of laze around in her nest of clothing.

Just as many still lived out here she too scavenged off what she could find in hope that she wouldn’t later regret it. The place she currently resided in had been long cleared out of food, entertainment, and pharmaceuticals. It was quite surprising just how long she had lived here on her own. Jessica’s wit clearly must have equaled her strength to be able to wield a standard pickax that was half her weight, awkward, and nearly the same size as she.

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