The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire

Fore note: The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory was a famous business in 1911 that made clothes for the United States. The factory was located in Manhattan, New York City. The factory workers were mainly girls from the ages of sixteen to twenty-three, but the youngest that died was 14 and the eldest 43.

This story takes place on floor 8 of the 10-story Asch Building, which is where the fire began.

A total of 146 of the garment workers died in this fire. 123 women and 23 men. This is realistic fiction, so my characters have no connection with the real life people who took part in the carnage.

Please enjoy and if there is a number in parenthesis, it means see below.
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I slid the shirt I was working on under the rapidly rising and falling needle, stitching together the shirt I was given. I was proud, for this was my third one that day, one more than average. (1)

I turned to my sister Viveka (2), and whispered, for we were not allowed to talk, "I'm halfway finished with my third shirt for today!"

She whispered back with a smile, "Mother and Father will be very proud of our work! We will be payed much!" (5)

I grimaced, remembering that we had to return home to the dirty slum of which we lived in. (3) We were cramped with eleven other families in that small apartment, because we could not afford anywhere else.

We had come to America from England, in hopes to make our lives better. After all, it was called 'The Land of Opportunity'! But it turns out it wasn't. We were trapped in the tenement housing, underpaid and suffering from malnutrition, along with disease and nasty vermin.

I was jerked out of my loathing thoughts, as the bell dismissing us for lunch sounded.

"Lilium! (2)" Vivika said excitedly to me. "It's over! I am so ready for a break!" (4)

"Yes. I am too." I say, slightly exhausted.

Suddenly, behind us, a girl named Gwendolyn (2) screamed in fright to our overseer, the man who watched over our working.

"Sir! Sir!" She called. "There is a fire! A fire in the trash bin!"

I sniffed the air, suddenly smelling the bitter aroma of smoke.

"Fire! Fire!" The overseer screamed, rushing to grab a fire-bucket. (6) I watched as he grabbed one, and turn and ran towards the fire. But it was not so, for he was too late.

The fire had spread to the curtains, which had then spread it to the clothes and other flammable materials. As the water fell upon the ever growing fire, it only seemed to cause it to grow bigger.

The foreman dropped the bucket, running toward the fire hose connected to the wall. He turned the handle, waiting for water to come spurting out the nozzle. He hit it and slammed it against the ground, calling it names. No water was coming.

I turned to Vivika, squeezing her hand. "Come! Come, we must hurry!"

We ran towards the main exit of the room, which led to the main stairs, which in turn led to the exit. We ran by many screaming young girls and women, all of which were heading in our same direction.

I was stabbed with a knife of pure dread as I saw the exit. The place where we exited and entered this vile room, was specifically built to only allow one woman at a time through, so a man could go through our belongings and make sure we hadn't stole any of the fabric.

Too many women had gathered here already to escape, that it was fruitless to even try to get through here.

I pulled Vivika out to the side, towards the one and only elevator.