“Because pretty soon some factory mishap will come about and that blasted tank will be “ leaking” all over this town.” “Nonsense don't listen to this fella he's wacko I tell ya” “I believe him.” mumbled the boy Will, weakly. It's lasted 4 years why worry now” Another man walks up to the stall muttering a reply as he approaches. That tank has been leaking since the very first day it was built “What? But shouldn't somebody be fixing it?” She asked, raising an eyebrow with confusion at the man’s calmness. “Help! It’s leaking! The tank is leaking, look!” She said pointing at the tank, her eyes wide with concern. She ran up to a man who remained preoccupied examining some apples at a fruit stand.
“Help somebody! It’s leaking! The tank is leaking!”Ī few people gave her some odd glances and moved away to a further stall in the market. Oh my! It really is!” she uttered in shock, her voice getting louder as she spoke. Suddenly, her face lit up with surprise and her chin dropped leaving her lips to form an ‘O’. The woman finally stops and turns around to face the tank wearing a dull unbelieving look on her face. “If I look and you’re fibbing you'll be in trouble boy” “I know ma but it really is, look!” Will protested pointing up at the looming shadow beside them only 100 or so metres away and tugging on his mother's sleeve.
“Please ma look, it really is!” protested the boy whose name was Will. “Now what have I told you about playing those practical jokes Will,” scolded the middle aged woman who continued to march down the street without the slightest glance or halt in her step. He wore a faded brown ascot cap that hid nearly all of his messy hair from sight - the colour of which was masked by grime and soot.
#Great molasses flood facts skin
Amongst the dirt you could see blisters poking out of his skin where the sun had scorched him. The sun had caked the substance across his legs, arms, face and clothes and the sun was so fierce that day that it had dried it completely, creating cracks in the splotches. His feet were bare and covered in what you would hope was dry mud. You could see his skin through the tears in his clothes and his ribs jotted out of his skin threatening to pierce it. He wore clothes that were barely clothes at all but rather rags, barely clinging to his body. He was thin and lean and looked so pale you could mistake him for a bag of flour. Look the tanks leaking!” exclaimed the boy.
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