Childlabour Stories

After the devastating war; Laz and his little sister Olive became orphans. He vowed never to seek assylum, he believed that those who put up the assylum were the same people that created the war; so he escaped with his little sister from the camp. scampering around, eating from garbage to survive. The real struggle of a 12 years old boy and his 10 years old sister from a war ravaged society.

We follow our characters though a time where humanity is threatened by the very technology they depend heavily on. An private organization build a school {VNA} where children are training to be the world's protection but our main character finds himself between protecting his country or following his mentor and master. As we go on we find another side to him instead of the usually hyper and lively person he usually show, it turns out there is really more to the mask than just a pretty face and wide smile and maybe sometimes we need a mask to be ourselves.

In 1996, when the Opel Astra was launched in India, the car caught the eye of ten-year-old Veer. As the son of a prostitute, he didn't even have the privilege of touching it. The immoral act has always been looked down upon, but for Meera, it was the only means of survival. She's the mother of two rasgullas, Veer and Tara. It's not easy for the children either. Their mother is always treated as an outcast, but the young boy is determined to be the man of the house. Their way of life is disgusting to many, pitied by some, and accepted by one man. Kindness, love, and courage can lead to the most beautiful thing... A Handful of Happiness. --- Completed Story | PG13

a story of a mine worker running away to find the meaning of existence, class and friendship.

Every being should be taught their virtues and skills from a young age but child laborers don't have a pen in their hand - like they should - but instead are given tools and are sent to work long hours in dangerous places like factories. For the amount they work, they receive little to no money! I was inspired by the book 'Iqbal' about a brave child who fought for children's rights and died a hero. to represent the injustice in these children's lives, I have written a poem Thank You

A short series of journal entries from a young Russian girl who had just immigrated to America in the early 1870's .

In an industrial world where death is common and children are forced to work on the loom, Isabelle fights a seemingly endless battle.

In a time, when countries like India are developing in a rate faster than previously estimated and are on their way to be superpower; there are some section of society whose lives are never taken into account. Most of the time, they are left behind, uncounted. Here two brothers Mohan, 17 and Suresh, 11; share an usual day with us. Both deprived of elementary education and quality amenities, Mohan along with his brother Suresh took to ragpicking to earn a living with their mother supporting them in this venture. Let's see the world by their eyes in a city full of prosperity and educational well-being...

Vaanika has always thought of her life to be somewhat of a challenge. Getting through everyday was tough, but she survived by cherishing and remembering the good things that she did have. But when her family and friends are taken away from her, Vaanika doesn't know what to do. A man calling himself her fiancé is chasing after her, ready to kill her if she doesn't cooperate soon. But what he doesn't know is that she has no intention of giving up. Running through the busy streets and deserted, dirty alleys of India, Vaanika learns to fend for herself and begins to lead a new life, but the pressure to give in and the constant fear of things much worse than death weigh down on her, as she struggles to stay strong.

Snippets I wrote that never evolved into full stories or became a short story. Cover made from canva template:))

Minn was walking home gracfully after school, she admired the trees that grew here in Canada. She walked around and saw a Tim Hortons. She eyed the place and kept on walking. She saw an alley that cut throught roads creating a shortcut. She was hyped and skiped along mearly into the ally, The alliy could see everyones backyard and the tree created a dome which made her feel safe. Suddenly something triped her and she fell on her hands. She minced at the rocks that poked her when she fell, she looked up and saw a big figure toweing over her. The figure hit her hard over the head with a bat and she fell unconcious... Meat the story of Minn who was an immagrant from isreal her story starts here as she get kidnapped into human traficking and slavery.

In the war-ravaged streets of Myanmar, 8-year-old Arkar is forced to become a parent and protector to his 2-year-old sister Myi. Orphaned and alone, he becomes a domestic helper and a restaurant cleaner-enduring abuse, hunger, and humiliation, all for one reason: Myi. As bombs fall in the distance and the world turns its back, Arkar gives up everything-his dreams, childhood, and body-to keep Myi fed, educated, and safe. But trauma doesn't fade just because you survive. Years later, Myi grows into a brilliant young woman with a future Arkar never imagined. But the past has claws-and when Arkar's buried pain resurfaces, both siblings must fight not just for survival, but for healing. A story of brutal truths, unshakable love, and the invisible scars child labor leaves behind. They called him a servant. But to Myi, he was everything. -:DISCLAIMER:- This is a work of fiction, inspired by the harsh realities faced by many children around the world who are trapped in cycles of poverty, abuse, and child labor. While the characters, settings, and plot are imaginary, they reflect the lived experiences of countless real children who suffer in silence. This story contains graphic depictions of child labor, physical and emotional abuse, sexual abuse (non-explicit but emotionally impactful), trauma, illness, and death. It is intended to raise awareness, evoke empathy, and spotlight the hidden injustices that often go unseen and unheard. Due to the intense and disturbing nature of the content, this story may not be suitable for highly sensitive readers or younger audiences. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you or someone you know has experienced trauma or abuse, please seek help from a licensed mental health professional or a support organization in your country. You are not alone. This story is not written to glorify pain-it is written to honor survival.

We all know about how Cinderella me her Prince Charming at a ball, but did anyone ever tell you about the girl who met hers at a skate park? Disclamer: A majority of theese characters belong to my friend and I, those that don't belong to Disney and DreamWorks. Enjoy the story.

Permanent tears stained my face. "We shall run" I trembled on the verge of breaking free. "We shall run..." He repeated shifting on his carpet. I hoisted myself into a sitting position looking out of the chained windows. The visible stars twinkled and shimmered. "One day," I thought "I'll be free.." My eyes scanned the room full of yarn and thread. "One day..." I repeated slowly drifting into a heavy slumber. -------------------------------------------- I breathe the same sadness as an enclosed cheetah. Longing to stretch. Longing to run. I want to feel the rugged dirt beneath my feet and the warm sky above my head. All this is false hope. I am stuck. I am stuck. I am stuck for an eternity.

My ninth grade research paper, it took me a long time so I thought I'd post it here 😂

"What are you called?" "My name is Alexander." "No.. What are you called." "...Puppy." -- Alexander Steward was 17 when the life he knew came to a complete stop. After defending a strange boy sitting inside the town toy shop, Alex found himself with a new name and a role to play in the shop keeper's carefully crafted family. As he fights the forced change, he meets the four other children of the house and learns there's more to a person than what meets the eye. Everyday is a struggle as Alex fights to keep his spirits up and hopes to escape this hellish doll house with the rest of the children. The question is, will he manage to lead them to safety or will he crack under the firm hand of the household. (Wip)

Not all of the children holding balloons, are happy children.😔

Two sides, one city. Neither know the other exists. 2 girls seemingly different come together with one common goal: To put an end to the separation and save the confounded.

Poetry of Poverty

Special thanks to @UrwaKadri. (COMPLETED) We loved to go to school, but feared the worst: We could be pulled out anytime. My brother kept sleeping in each class because he never got proper sleep. Now, since Mother was bedridden, the whole responsibility of caretaking went to my eldest sister. Nineth grade was no cake walk for any student and we all knew that very well. Seeing the gifts my classmates got made my heart sink. Even we loved gifts. But the reality couldn't change. We wished so many things, but Fate had different plans. Which child loves to work in factories? I never remember a day playing without fear. The 'free time' we got in the mill was the only playtime we had. There was no escape. Even if any of us did, all would get punished. Was it our fault? We were never destined to become this. No child working here surely, never dreamed of ever coming here. We all saw dreams of freedom. Me and my siblings were lucky since we went to school. But there were those, amongst us who didn't even know what the word 'school' meant. The unlucky ones. Working there made our child-like minds work like a machine. As if we were programmed beforehand and were sent to perform a duty. Due to our innocence, they controlled us; which I hated. I never liked control. It felt like you are being owned. The curse of child labour is still prevalent in our world. No matter how much we try to destroy it, it still finds new ways to enter into young and innocent children's lives and destroys them completely. Through this story I have tried to highlight the challenges faced by 5 siblings who go through challenges of child labour.