Maggie's Short Story: The Triangle Factory

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Walking through the doors of the Triangle Factory I kept my head down as they searched my purse. I didn’t have any fabric with me or anything to hide, well maybe one thing. I was at the strike yesterday with the other 19,999 women who apparently want better working conditions. They tried to arrest me, but I fought hard. The officer that grabbed me left with a missing chunk of hair from his head. Sadly though nothing changed here. It 's just another day in the cramped building, working tirelessly and at a fast pace that is difficult to upkeep. I along with my fellow women workers. We squeeze into the elevator, some taking the stairs, and make our way up to the 8th, some go to the 9th floor as well. I made my way over to my machine where there was already piles of fabric waiting for me to meld together to create beautiful shirtwaists, but I will never have enough time to complete it all. My dear…show more content…
Maggie stops at a window, and the fire is continuously raging towards us. Holding my hand she steps up to the sill.
“Maggie don’t!” I cry anxiously pulling her hand. She look back at me and the sight will forever be etched in my mind. Her face is streaked with ash and dust. Tear stains clean under her eyes, but she looks so tired, so afraid, so guilty.
“I can’t. This is all my fault.” Right as the flames begin to lick at the window her grasp slips from my hand and she falls to the street below. I cry out in pain. My heart it ripped out of my chest, and the heat and fear is too much. I sit in the nearby chair and just cry. Sobs wreck through my body for all the women trapped here with me. For the women who had no other choice but to end their lives in pain. For my family who will lose their only daughter. I pray that they will be able to find me, and that they can find peace.
I, Kate Leone, will die at the age of 14 because my employers cared more about money than my life, Maggie’s life, and 123 other women 's lives. Things must change. If only our voices were heard

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