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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SE2fAPub6F_Uc81j7D6NDAcxhVHouG7kpxb5sieBPl4/edit
Link 🔺
“Papa’s taking us shopping! Papa’s taking us shopping!” I chant as we ride up the elevator to Papa’s office. “Hush you’re being rude” Millicent scolds me. I hate it when she does that, Millicent is always scolding me and acting like she’s better than I am, but at least Mam'selle Michaud doesn’t scold me for being excited.

We step off the elevator into the reception area, I almost slip and fall because the floor is so slippery. But then I see Miss Mary!
“Miss Mary! Miss Mary!” I yelled running over to give her a hug

“Oh, sweetie, Miss Mary’s busy right now,” she told me, pushing me out of the way

I always loved Miss Mary, but she was always busy and could never play with us. I went over and admired some wires on her desk while she and Mam'selle Michaud talked about Papa. Then, Mam'selle Michaud took us into papa’s office.

Papa had the best office! With a gigantic chair and a huge desk, I love playing here. Mam'selle Michaud tells us to wait in here while she goes to find papa. I sit in the chair and put my feet up on the desk but Millicent scolds me,

“Harriet! A young lady would never put her feet up on the desk!”

Sometimes she can be aggravating, always scolding me and telling me to act like a young lady.

We sit patiently in the office for what feels like forever. Millicent always tells me that I’m not patient enough, but how can you be patient when you’re going shopping with papa!

“I wonder where Mam'selle Michaud is,” Millicent wonders aloud, “Shouldn’t she be back by now?”

But just then we hear Miss Mary frantically yelling outside the office

“Fire! Fire! There’s a fire!”

We burst out of the office and see flames crawling up the stairs. Miss Mary is lying on the floor and everyone is coming out of their offices and yelling, it’s hard to hear over all the noise. Tears sting in my eyes and I start to cough.

“What do we do!” Millicent screams in my ear

I can barely respond but I scream back

“Where is papa!? He will save us!”

The fire starts getting closer and we have to jump over and around the flames just to keep our shoes from burning. We both thought our legs would burn and we would die when a whole crowd of people pushed me into the elevator.

“Where is papa?! I need my papa!” I screamed

Just then my papa scooped me out and held me in his arms . The elevator tumbled down into fire, everyone who was crammed in it, falling to the ground.

We stood there for what felt like an hour, I was sobbing into papa’s coat and Millicent was holding on to his legs. The fire kept getting closer, we were all coughing from the smoke. I couldn’t think clearly, all I could barely remember where I was. All I could think was it’s hot, it’s so very hot. But then someone started shouting at us,

“Sir! Sir! You can’t stay here! You’ve got to get out!”

I couldn’t quite place her but she looked familiar. It was hard to know who anybody was when everyone was covered in ashes and soot but I had seen her before, somewhere. Papa slid me into her arms and she whispered in my ear,

“Do you know who I am?”

Then I remembered! She was Bella!

“Bella and Yetta and Jane,” I whispered back “You’re Bella, the one who talks funny.”

I pressed my face into Bella’s shirtwaist, trusting her to carry me to safety. Bella told me not to be scared if we started running, I trusted her. She took me up to the roof where we climbed across a ladder to safety. I felt safe with Bella and I knew she would protect me, I never wanted to leave her but I had to. Father took me home where I grew up as a rich child, I never knew what happened to Bella or Mam'selle Michaud. Father said he fired her, but I didn’t believe him. She would have come back at least, to say goodbye. It was not until years later that I found out where Bella lived and I heard the heartbreaking news that Mam'selle Michaud had died in the fire.

# data[].attributes.body
Jacob’s fire perspective- Evie B

Saturday. We were stuck here on saturday, what a waste of a beautiful day! The air was clean and the workroom was chatty with excitement for our day off. I tried to ignore the other cutters while they were smoking their cigarettes. I had to focus. Maybe if I could show Yetta that I worked as hard as she did, she would go dance with me! Yetta, goodness gracious, what a gal. She sure was spunky, but that didn’t change how much I wanted to dance with her. I was busy daydreaming about our romantic dance when I felt a burning sensation near my leg. I looked down and saw a spark of fire from a cigarette bud start to flame in the fabric basket. I jumped up and scrambled away from the bin. One of the cutters grabbed a pail of water and dumped it on the fire. It went out, thankfully. I heard the men beside me breathe a sigh of relief. But before anyone could make a joke about the accident, the fire flew up again three times bigger. Where had it come from? The men with the cigarettes tried to find water to put it out, but the fire was too large. The flames curled around the fabric and tables, everything catching in a matter of moments. Girls and men alike were screaming and running towards the elevator. I saw Yetta helping girls off the ground. I ran towards her and did the same thing. “We have to get everyone down the stairs.” Yetta yelled at me. Wow, that was the first time she had talked to me in months! I stood stunned for a moment until Yetta hit my shoulder and pulled me out of my daze. We raced downstairs grabbing girls, yelling orders, and saving lives. We were almost downstairs when Yetta’s expression changed from determined to frightened. “Bella” she whispered so quietly I almost missed it. Then she ran back up the stairs leaving me confused in the middle of a fire. “What are you doing?” I screamed. “Bella!” She yelled back. “Yetta, wait!” I shouted, but she was too far to hear me. Oh my goodness. I thought, shaking my head. What was she thinking? She was gonna get herself killed! I sighed with disappointment… then ran after her.

I found her on the ninth floor yelling at some girls to go to the roof. Oh! Bella and Jane, that’s what she had been rambling on about. After the two girls had disappeared from view, I grabbed Yetta by the shoulders and dragged her towards the exit. We raced down another set of stairs. When we stopped towards the window to breathe, we saw girls jumping out windows without any nets below them. “No!” I yelled, but Yetta kept running.  Yetta picked up girls and slapped them out of their panic, then I carried them a little closer to the exit so they could regain their footing. Yetta looked like a superhero. Her face was determined, her eyes were smoldering and her mouth was pressed in a thin line. She has nice lips. Focus, Jacob! She was running, dodging obstacles and saving any girl she could. We got to the elevators and pushed all the girls in, but there wasn’t enough room for us. We kept running until we found ourselves trapped. Girls were hysterically pushing on the doors. I tried to pull them in instead but it didn’t work. The door we had found was locked. We tried to turn around but a wall of fire met our faces. It was getting ridiculously hot. My face was burning, and I was sweating through every pore. Yetta leaned against me, breathing heavily. “Jacob” Yetta said. “I don’t want to burn.” I looked down at her. “We won’t burn.” I said, suddenly very driven. I started to lift her out onto the ledge outside the window, but she started to squirm. “There’s a ledge.” I explained. I set her down and climbed out beside her. The air was clean, and the sky was blue. It looked like the world outside hadn’t realized the tragedy happening inside. I looked toward Yetta. Her eyes were closed, and her hair was blowing in the wind. Oh, how I wished I could have taken her dancing, just once. I looked down, and saw a fire truck lifting a ladder towards us, we were saved! “Look!” I said, gently nudging Yetta’s ribs. She opened her eyes and looked down, and breathed a sigh of relief. We watched the ladder slowly come towards us. We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna make it. I was sure of it. But the ladder stopped three floors before it reached us. Yetta and I looked at each other. “Why did it stop? Is that really as far as it goes?” Yetta asked. I was silent for a moment, trying to think of our options. “We have to jump.” I said. Yetta looked at me like I was crazy, which, maybe I was. “Are you serious? From all the way up here?” She said hysterically. I looked at her straight on. “It’s the only way we can get down.” I looked behind me, the fire was biting at my back. “If we miss the ladder, the net’s below it to catch us.” I said. Yetta looked down at the scene below us. I saw the face she made when she realized it was our only way. She looked towards me and nodded her head. In unison, we jumped, holding hands, and as soon as our feet left the edge of the ledge, I wrapped my arms around her. I made sure my body was under hers, so I would get the worst of the fall. But it wasn’t much use, because whenever I did, our bodies would turn with the wind so our sides faced the ground. I saw the ladder come closer to us, inch by inch, I reached up towards it, but we were just a few inches away from grabbing it. We still have the nets. Yetta tucked her head into the crook between my head and shoulder. I wrapped my arms tighter around her. I just wanted to dance with you, Yetta, that’s all. The net was coming closer and closer. We should have landed right in the middle, and we did. But the net broke straight through, and we fell farther. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you Yetta, I’m so sorry. Yetta, Yetta, Yetta. My last thoughts.

Yetta.

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Jacob

Just standing there, smoking a cigarette with a few other guys, I glanced over at Yetta’s table. She was sitting there, working on her sewing machine talking to the girl working next to her. I know it's just a fantasy, me and Yetta getting together. She turned me down, I remember. But I just can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve been trying to get her to notice me. I know it sounds silly, but I’ve been walking by her table as much as possible, standing in the same elevator as her, and glancing over at her all the time.

Yetta was amazing. I admired her from the moment I saw her walking the picket line. She was brave and strong and unafraid of facing the world. When I asked her to dance, I expected her to say yes, but instead she turned me down by saying, “Do I look like the kind of girl who has time to dance?” I myself am 20, I have short hair and am not exactly rich, but I have enough to live on. I have been told that I look a lot older than I actually am, maybe that’s just the way I look, but I feel it has something to do with my past. I came from Russia, back when I was young. Although I was young, that does not stop me from remembering all the terrible things that happened in the pogrom in Russia. Maybe that is what people mean when they say I look older, because they can tell that I have seen things that no person should see.

The factory itself was a terrible place. There were young girls, some aged 15 who were bent over sewing machines all day, sitting directly next to each other. There was smoke that went around the building from all the cigarette smoking that went on and, who knows, there was probably some sort of disease or flu going around. Workers were yelled and screamed at, and their pay was docked for any little mistake that they made. There was a fire escape, but the one on the outside was old and rickety and didn’t even reach the ground, so the only working one was an indoor stairwell.

She got up just as the bell rang. Obviously she was happy that work was practically over, we all were. I left the group of guys I was sitting with to go catch the elevator. I never really liked any of those guys. They were always smoking, trying to act so tough, and they picked on the girls, made fun of them because they were poor. I never did any of that, but I never stopped them from doing it either. I kind of just go along with things, I’m not really big on speaking out against people.

The moment I turned away, all the guys rushed to the shelves to get water buckets. Why would they need water buckets, I thought to myself. I turned around to see what it was. “Fire! Fire!” everyone screamed. I had to find Yetta. She was there, screaming at, well actually she was kind of pleading with the girl she sat next to her to get up and run. All of the workers were hysterical. People were screaming and running around, panicking. The elevator came up, and people squished themselves in. The people who were left out stayed, praying that it would be back.

The fire ravaged through the ninth floor, burning shirtwaists and all kinds of cloth, anything that stood in its path. Eventually, it caught a lady. She had a large hat, and was screaming hysterically. She shattered the window, and jumped out.

I grabbed Yetta and pulled her away from the window and towards the elevator. We pushed through the crowd of people blocking the door. “Why aren’t you opening it?” Yetta screamed at them. “Open the door!” We got to the door, and tried to push it open. “It’s stuck!” I yelled. “I think you have to pull it open,” Yetta screamed back at me. I yanked back the door with all my might, and it came open. All of the people pushed their way through, trying to escape. Yetta was running the opposite way. I fought my way back to her, it was like swimming upstream, Of course. She was running to the fire escape. “Yettta,” I called to her. “The fire escape is no good. It doesn’t go to the ground.”

So Yetta began to run. I followed her, trying to hear what she was saying. “The tenth floor, someone has to warn the tenth floor!” She screamed.

Then she bolted, sprinting back up the stairs to go warn the others. For a moment, I just stood there thinking about how strong and brave Yetta was.  The strike…it was her because of her bravery that the strike was as successful as it was. Without her it wouldn’t have done a single thing. I have to tell her, I thought to myself. I sprinted up the stairs, trying to find her.

When I arrived with her on the ninth floor, Yetta was currently screaming at all the workers to get out. “Don’t stop to get your hat! Don’t stop to get your gloves! Go!” I stepped up right next to her and began to warn the workers with her.

“What are you doing?” She screamed at me. “The same as you!” I hollered back at her. We shoved as many people as we could into the elevator, and then we rushed towards the fire escape. What? “Where is the escape?” Yetta asked me. “I don’t think we have the time to find out!” I replied. We rushed towards the door where all the workers were crowded, trying to tell them to pull the door open, not push it. This one was actually locked. Yetta, she kept trying. She kept trying to tell the other girls to escape another way. I pulled her close to me and whispered into her ear,

“They can’t.” Yetta turned around and looked. A wall of flames was blocking the path we had just used to get up here. “I don’t want to burn.” Yetta said quietly. “You won’t burn,” I promised her. It was an empty promise, but I needed something that I could tell her.

I lifted Yetta up, higher and higher, and began moving towards the window. “No, not that either!” Yetta screamed. “Don’t worry,” I assured her. “There’s a ledge.”

I lowered her onto the ledge, following her shortly after. I wrapped my arms around her and held her, watching the tears slowly streak down her face. Below us, there were firemen and police officers, and a crowd of people. I barely noticed them.

“Why did you follow me?” Yetta asked. You could be perfectly safe right now had you not followed me. “I was a scab during the strike,” I told her. “I saw you walking the picket line and I...I wanted to be on your side. You were incredible.” There was a period of silence, both holding on to each other because there was nothing else to hold on to.

“Yetta,” I told her. “We can’t stay here.” Just then, a fire truck pulled up underneath them. “They see us!” Yetta squealed. The firemen started to unfurl the ladder that would soon reach them. “They’re coming to rescue us,” I said, overjoyed.

Then the ladder stopped. The ladder stopped about 3 stories short. “Don’t they have a longer ladder?” Yetta questioned. “Don’t they?” I could tell she was starting to panic. “We could jump for the ladder,” I offered. “Or we could jump for the nets on the ground.

I bowed to Yetta, tears streaking down my face. I once again wrapped my arms around her, holding on to her as tight as I possibly could. Then we jumped.

The fall to the ground was not long. It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds. But it felt like forever. My thoughts were practically empty. I was unable to imagine how Yetta felt. She buried her face into my shoulder, like this would be the last time ever. Maybe it would be. We missed the ladder, and I thought to myself there are still the nets. We were still grasping each other tightly when we hit the net, right in the center.

For the split second I was grateful for the firemen, who tried so hard to save me. Then the net snapped, and we plunged all the way to the ground. From nine stories up, we plunged all the way to our deaths, right in each other’s arms.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1xpDIsBWB3m8XVgoTsPaIfMij2Db5Plq1coAGmNC_dGU/edit#

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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1F_CcZtuW_WzbMlSW5p9DyaWABFGLO5c8TPkdkkYeEhk/edit

I woke up just at the crack of dawn at 6 am, ready for another day of work. So as soon as I wake up, I’m out the door. It was Saturday and there weren’t a lot of people out because usually people didn’t work on Saturdays, but we did at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. It was also like 6:30 in the morning so that might have also been a cause. Either way, I arrive on the ninth story and take my usual place at the long table and just start sewing. And sewing. And even more sewing. BORING! But I guess it’s what’s putting food on the table so I continued to do it anyway. Hours go by and I swear I could hear a lot of commotion downstairs but I figured it was just music. I’m finally about to leave and all of a sudden someone bursts through the doors and screams “There’s a fire on the eighth floor! Get out!” I’m not doing this today especially after like 10 hours of work. So I walk over to my friend Mia and we’re just chatting about and BOOM! Gust of light. It’s hot everywhere. I can’t see a thing. Fire.

I grab Mia’s hand and just start booking it. I ran to the door where that girl had come out of. “Greta wait!” Mia was screaming at the top of her lungs. Or at least what was left of them because it was so hot and the air was filled with smoke. She grabs a pile of shirtwaists and tosses me some. We both use our free hands to cover them over our noses and mouths. We made it to the door and we started trying to open it. It didn’t budge.“It’s locked!” I yelled to Mia and there was already a crowd of other girls running towards us. “Pull in-wards!” Mia yelled. I pulled. It opened. “Yes!” we both yelled and started running down the stairs.

I couldn’t see anything. There was so much smoke. There were a bunch of other girls running behind us. I tripped over a stair and I fell down. Hitting each step. I think I broke my arm. But now’s not the time to panic! I use my other arm now to cover my face and Mia is right behind me. We’re still running. Right now we’re behind the crowd of girls so we can’t see what’s up ahead. More fire. I thought. Or I assumed. Because they all started running faster.

We only had made it down one stairwell. After all this? I thought. SMASH! A jar of kerosine used to light the lamps was splattered on the ground. Before we had any time run across it, fire took over. We started running backwards up the stairs. More fire. We knew we only had one choice, to run through it if we wanted to live. The fire was much worse upstairs so we ran back down. Before we had any time to think, we just ran right through the fire. We were set ablaze. “AHHHH!” Mia screamed in agony. She tripped. I tripped. We both rolled. Which actually put the fire out. But only caused us to feel the burns even more. We got back up, and ran. We didn’t care if we were on fire or not, we ran. We ran as fast as we could.

We approached the doors to the eighth floor and looked in. Fire was everywhere. We looked up the stairs. Fire. We looked down the stairs. More fire. It wasn’t like what we had just ran through, it was rapidly expanding. I could feel the sweat dripping off my face in what seemed like gallons. The fire was inching closer by the second. I didn’t know what to do. Mia didn’t know what to do. There was nowhere else to go. Nowhere to turn to. Our burns were throbbing. My broken arm, stinging. Our hearts, aching. We couldn't bear the flames anymore. We couldn’t take it. In less than a moment, the window was broken. We were hugging. In the air. Falling. I remembered my life in Italy. My family. All the memories. All the Christmas and birthday celebrations. I remembered how every year we would put on little plays of the birth of Jesus and sneaking my mother’s famous Christmas cookies when she wasn’t watching. Joy and happiness. Which weren’t seen in these last few moments of terror. I looked at Mia. Mia looked at me. It took a lifetime in the air. But this lifetime wasn’t enough time.

# data[].attributes.body
It was a nice spring day. The windows were open and you could feel the breeze tickling the back of your neck. The bell finally rang and all of the girls got up to stretch. I couldn’t help but notice Yetta she was chatting with the new girl, Jennie. I saw her start to look in my direction and I quickly went back to work. I had to get the fabric ready to be cut first thing tomorrow morning. When I stood up my face was engulfed by tissue paper patterns that seemed to be mocking me while they danced in the wind, the way I had hoped to dance with Yetta. Then as if in slow motion I saw a cigarette butt fall into a bin and in seconds all the scraps caught fire. Some of the other cutters ran to get water to drown the flames. It didn’t help. The flame ran up to the top of the table. The others had used up all the water, and then the patterns caught fire. We were on one side of a large room but in seconds everything was covered in an orange fiery blanket.

I saw Yetta pushing the girl, Jennie, towards an exit and helping a girl that seemed to have fainted. Then I saw it, I think everyone in that room saw it. A woman jumped through a window with her hair on fire and she fell. There wasn’t anybody to help her land, not yet. I ran to Yetta, I would not let her die the same way that woman had. I yelled “Yetta, come on!” and I helped her pull Jennie and the girl who had fainted to the Washington Place stairs. Yetta seemed to come back to earth and she yelled at a girl who was trying to grab her money. I helped Yetta pull the girl up from the ground. All the doors were locked and then the elevator door opened. Everyone rushed to the elevator, Yetta pushed Jennie into the elevator at the last moment. Yetta looked at me and asked “Will he come back?” she was talking about the elevator operator, I simply shrugged.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me around the fire, then we saw that someone had opened the doors, but the fire had cut off any way back to that exit. The fire was eating everything in its path, we were in its path, and it was getting hard to breathe. “Fire escape” Yetta said barely audible above the crackle of the flames.  “No good,” I replied, barely able to talk because of all the smoke “Doesn’t go all the way to the ground.” Then I had an idea “Green Street stairs,” Yetta stared at me for a moment, she looked beautiful. She seemed so thoughtful and the glowing orange from the fire only added to her beauty. Then the moment was over I saw how close the flames were and ran, Yetta only seconds behind me. Yetta stopped and stared at her sleeve, which was on fire. I quickly put out the fire.

We were at the door and then I noticed all the girls at the elevator. “Stairs!” I screamed at them, I opened the door and Yetta and I practically shoved other girls through the doorway and into the stairwell. “Hurry!” Yetta started yelling. Then someone replied “The fire! What if it’s everywhere?” without hesitation Yetta replied “There’s no smoke coming from down there! Go down to the ground! You’ll be safe! The flames are going up not down!” We started going down the stairs. Yetta stopped and started going up “What are you doing?” I screamed at her and without a trace of fear in her voice she replied “Somebody’s got to tell the ninth floor! I have to!” then she ran. The other girls were looking at me for guidance so I yelled at them to go down, to safety. Then I turned and followed Yetta up to the ninth floor.

I made it to the ninth floor, everyone was screaming and running around. Yetta was yelling “Go now! You’ve only got a few minutes!” I joined in by yelling “Don’t stop to get your hat! Don’t stop to get your gloves! Go!” She turned around and looked at me and asked “What are you doing?” “The same thing as you!” I said. After shoving girls into the elevator Yetta rushed towards her friends, Bella and Jane, who were staring out the window at where the fire escape was supposed to be. Then Bella and Jane ran towards the stairs and Yetta came back to me.

We went to the doors and tried opening them, but this time the door was actually locked. Yetta started screaming at the girls “Take the other stairs! Take the other stairs!” I grabbed Yetta to calm her down and said “Yetta, they can’t.” She looked around the room as if she was just now seeing the fire, the bodies, the terror. She looked back at me and said almost crying “Jacob, I don’t want to burn.” and after a moment she added “Not me. Not my life. Please. I don’t want to go that way,” earlier she had been so certain and now, now she was the complete opposite “You won’t burn,” I replied, and at that moment I swore I would make sure she would not burn.

Then I had an idea and I lifted her up and started walking to the window. Yetta realized where we were going and she started protesting “No! Not that either!” I replied as calmly as I could “There’s a ledge,” a moment later we were both on the ledge. Out here the breeze cooled us off after the heat from inside the building. I held onto her, I felt that if I let go she would vanish, become just another of the clouds in the bright blue sky. Yetta had been looking up at that sky but then she looked at me and asked “Why did you follow me? You were safe on the stairs. You could be down there right now.” I brushed some of the hair that had fallen in her face out of the way, deciding if I should tell her. “I was a scab during the strike, but I saw you picketing. I saw you. You were … incredible. I wanted to be on your side.” She looked at me, and we both took in the sight of each other. Both covered in soot, hanging nine stories above the ground, about to meet the doom of a fiery death or that of becoming a pancake on the ground.

“Yetta-,” I said slowly “We can’t stay here,” Yetta just blinked and looked up again at the perfect fluffy clouds. If only life could be as perfect as those clouds, so carefree just going where the wind takes you. That’s when I saw the ladder from a fire truck reaching up to us, growing larger and larger. “They’re coming to rescue us,” I said, then it stopped growing, it was still so far away. “Don’t they have a longer ladder? Don’t they? Don’t they?” She knew the answer but she looked at me with such curiosity in her eyes. I knew I had to be the one to take charge, like she had during the strike. “We could jump for the end of the ladder, or for the nets on the ground.” I said. She looked down at all of our possibilities and then nodded at me.

I stood up carefully and bowed as if getting ready for a dance. Yetta stood up and almost smiled. We both grabbed each other, and jumped. It was almost no time at all yet it felt like forever. I could have stayed with her forever holding her tight and flying, except it wasn't flying it was falling. I reached out for the ladder and felt my fingers brush the top rung. “There’s still the net!” I yelled. I saw the firemen right underneath us holding out the net to catch us. We would make it. I looked at Yetta and wished we could stay in each other's arms forever, that forever ended a second later.

# data[].attributes.body
Essie

The bell sounded and the machines stopped, signaling that the work day was over.  I was so very excited for the weekend.  One of the cutters from downstairs had asked me to go dancing with him.  It was going to be the best day of my life.  I was getting my hat when I heard it.  There were screams, and then I saw the fire.

I was so scared that I just stood in place for a long time, watching the fire quickly spread from one table to the next, consuming all of the shirtwaists in an instant.  Somewhere deep in the back of my mind there was a voice saying, Isn’t it beautiful?  All those amazing shades of orange and red.  I was shaken out of my daze by a voice that wasn’t in my head.

“Essie, come on! We have to get to the fire escape!”

I looked around for where the voice was coming from.  It was Ida, and she was ten feet away from me.  I realized that the fire had spread so fast that it was moments away from reaching me.  I leaped towards Ida, then furiously looked around for the fire escape.  It was on the other side of the room and the fire was still far enough away that we could make it.  Ida and I ran to the fire escape, but I tripped over a basket holding half finished shirtwaists, and my hat fell off of my head.  I looked around the building soot and smoke.  My hat was behind a table that had caught fire.  I went to go reach for it, but Ida was pulling me back.

“You can’t go back to get it.  It’s not safe,” she pleaded.

“I don’t care!  That cutter from the eighth floor gave it to me to wear when we go dancing.  I can’t leave it,” I screamed back, over the roaring flames.

“You won’t be able to go dancing if we don’t make it out of this deathtrap,” she said, with a desperate look on her face.

I knew she knew how I felt.  The hat was one of my prized possessions, along with the silver buckle on my left boot.  Ever since coming to America, I had barely anything, but these were signs that it was possible for a girl to make a good life for herself, by herself.  I didn’t want to let it go, but I took Ida’s hand, and together we slowly made our way through the smoke, and burning tables and shirtwaists.

Ida was stumbling through the ash a little bit ahead of me, and the table right next to her burst into flames.  I let out a shriek.  She staggered backwards and fell over.  I was so scared that I thought I might fall over myself.  I bent down to see if she was okay, and her eyes were closed.  I racked my brain trying to remember what had happened a couple seconds ago.  Had the flames touched any part of her, I wondered.  I looked more intently at her face, but it was hard to tell if it was burned because of all of the soot that seemed to have seeped into her skin.  I heard some girl scream something unintelligible, and was snapped back into my reality.  Ida would want me to keep going, I thought.  I have to make it to the fire escape.  Miraculously, I did.

I didn’t hesitate to step out of the burning building, right onto the rickety staircase.  But, as soon as I took another step down the staircase, it began to shudder.

“Essie!  Where are you?!” I heard someone scream, just before the whole staircase fell from the side of the building.

This is how it ends for me, I thought morbidly.  This is how I die.  I wish I could go dancing.  I wish I got to see my family one more time.  I wish I didn’t have to die alone.  I looked up and realized that I wasn’t going to die alone.  There were small clusters of girls, here and there, also falling to their deaths.

The whole way down I couldn’t help but wonder what my last words would be, what my last thoughts would be.  Falling felt like an eternity and a half.  I thought I had more time to compile my thoughts into something extraordinarily meaningful, but in the end, I only had time to say one thing.

“It may have taken me years to find the perfect dancing partner, but I will wait a couple more, for you to join me on the dance floor in the sky.”

I whispered this so quietly that only God could hear it.  Only God, and that cutter from the eighth floor.

________________________________________________

Ida

My eyes slowly drifted open, and I took in the scene around me.  People were screaming and coughing.  There was soot enveloping my face.  But, most importantly, the world around me was burning.  It took me a moment to register the heat, and the flames licking the edges of my clothes.  I stood up with a generous amount of speed, and looked around for Essie.  I had been taking her to the fire escape, but now she was nowhere to be seen.

“Essie!  Where are you?!” I screamed.  Startled by the evenness of my voice.

I peered around the now unrecognizable room, and my eyes landed on a charred hat sitting behind a burning basket of shirtwaists.  All I could think of was Essie and that hat that she was so unwilling to part with.  I had told her to get to the fire escape, and was hoping she had made it.  I ran to the fire escape and looked down.  Somehow, the whole thing had fallen off of the building.  I prayed that Essie had not been on it when it had fallen.  I heard screams coming from the people watching from the streets, and realized with a shock of horror that some of the girls were jumping from the windows.  I couldn’t believe it.  You can’t give up now, I thought. There has to be another way.

I knew in my heart that I wouldn’t be jumping out of any windows.  I had suffered too much in my lifetime to let go now.  Maybe these girls hadn’t been part of the strike.  Maybe they don’t know what it’s like to starve for so long only to realize it was for almost nothing.  Maybe they don’t understand that our fight isn’t over.  We may not have won, but that doesn’t mean we should be okay with losing.

I suddenly remembered a time that felt so so long ago.  When my mother was saying goodbye to me just before I got on the boat for America, she said something to me.  She said, “You are a very resourceful young woman.  If anyone can make it on their own in America, it will be you.  You should never give up, my darling.”

I used these words to motivate my mind to think of a way out of my predicament.  I stumbled to the elevators, my thoughts becoming hazy as more and more smoke filled my lungs.  For a brief moment I thought I would die with all of the other girls who had fallen to the floor.  I knew, though, that I was too stubborn to die.  I crept to the nearest window, my sleeve to my nose, and leaned out.  There was what looked like a staircase of bricks slightly sticking out of the wall of the building going up to the roof.  A gift from God, I thought.  I didn’t think about whether or not I could actually use these to climb up to safety, I just stepped out onto the nearest brick, an inch separating me from a sheer drop to a young death.  I continued to climb up the small slivers of brick, until I reached the roof.

Once I was able to breathe fresher air, I realized I had imagined the staircase of bricks.  I looked down at my hands, and they were bleeding and my shoes were more beaten up than before.  A man came rushing to my side, telling me to follow the small herd of people climbing up a ladder to another building.  I stood up shaking, and hobbled over to the ladder.  The wounds in my hands were torn open even more, from me gripping the ladder so hard.  I’m too stubborn to die.  So I won’t.

I finally made it safely to the ground.  The people all around me were either sobbing or too shocked to do anything.  I saw broken nets and firemen carrying people out of the building.  I staggered through rows and rows of bodies covered in white sheets.  I came across one body that had a foot sticking out.  I immediately recognized the silver buckle on the boot.  I fell to my knees and tore away the sheet.  It was Essie.  Her body was so disfigured that it was hard to recall what she had looked like.  Her silky brown hair, now burned and strewn across her once beautiful face.  Her limbs bent in such unnatural ways, it made her hard to look at.  I gingerly laid the sheet on her again, and began to sob myself.

With each shuddering breath, I became more and more angry.  Why hadn’t there been better fire escapes?  Why did the fire even start?  Why weren’t Harris and Blanck held accountable for this?  Why did the strike end?  Why did so many have to die young?  Why, why, why?!  I couldn’t hold it any longer.

I stood up and screamed, “Those dirty bosses!  They could have treated us better!  They could have made it safe!  But, no!  It’s all money, money, money!  Well, you know who’s really making the money?  Us!  It’s always been, us!”

I let out a couple more rude comments about the owners of Triangle, and then I fell to my knees once more and wailed.  I wailed until my eyes burned, until my chest grew heavy, until I couldn’t anymore.  I wailed and my energy slipped away, along with my willingness to continue fighting.  I’m sorry Mother, but I can’t move on.  Not in a world like this.

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Ten more minutes. I can go ten more minutes. After working 14 hours a day every day, even weekends I was about to quit.  I wasn’t actually because I needed the money to send my parents overseas, but my hands were aching and my head was dozing off. I wasn’t even paying attention to what I was doing. The shirtwaist snagged. Oh great. This was gonna come out of my pay. No lunch this week I guess. It wouldn’t come out though. The sewing machine had hooked on to the ruffle collar for the few people who could actually afford those things. I pulled and pulled, but it wouldn’t come loose. I knew this meant I would starve for a week but I had no choice. I ripped it off and the machine’s needle flew across the room. I didn’t think anyone noticed but that wasn’t what I was worried about right now.

The only thing I had my mind on was how much was coming out of my pay. I wouldn’t eat, and neither would my family back in Italy. Making $7 a week was nothing compared to my rent and basic necessities. I couldn’t live on it, so I lived with Marisa, the girl who sat next to me at the factory. We both came from small towns in southern Italy, only a couple miles away from each other. Ripping this shirtwaist was gonna cost me more than 3 weeks of pay.

I figured there was nothing I could do, so by the time I had stopped having a nightmare during the day, I was stunned by the flame coming from the shirtwaist I had ripped. There was a pile right next to it and soon my whole table was a roaring fireplace. I screamed as loud as I could in every language I had picked up while working here. “FIRE! FIRE!” “FUOCO! FUOCO!” “FEUER! FEUER!” I tried my best with yiddish but by the time everyone was up and running, I’m sure the Jewish Russians had caught on. Most of us knew the hoses didn’t work so we didn’t bother. The ones who didn’t though, were severely disappointed when not a drop of water was even inside the tube.  You can’t trust the bosses to do anything, even if it meant saving their workers. Rushing to the stairs we found locks that couldn’t be broken. Ten minutes before leaving and they still didn’t trust us. It’s amazing how much they don't give a thought if we’ll be okay.

Turning around to look for more exits we found the flames were grasping onto every table, shirtwaist, and possible burning material. One stairwell was open, the Green Street stairs, but only so many people could fit. No elevators for the workers though. We must be too dirty to ruin the wealthy’s precious, precious moving metal boxes.

I couldn’t help but feel dread and guilt. What will happen if people die? I become responsible. How do I live with that?Windows. I’m moving as fast as possible, there is only so much time. Why would I trust the people who barely keep me alive to give us fire escapes? Of course there are no fire escapes, because the poor aren’t special enough to have exits in case of emergency. I watch 5 people jump onto glass covers and shatter their bodies into a million pieces. Just like their bodies, so does my heart. I can barely breath, and not just because of the smoke. My guilt was starting to build.

Where were the firemen? Only after taking 3 minutes to sprint up to the 9th and 10th floor to warn them, did I see the firetrucks surrounding our building. Only from the inside you could tell what a tragedy was happening right before my own eyes. The building was fireproof, but that didn’t stop the fire from taking so many lives. The bosses cared more about the health of their building than the health of their workers. I had only been 17, and I caused the deaths of over 5 people in under 5 minutes. More people were jumping, the body count in my mind was only growing.

Why me? Why did I just have to rip the shirtwaist? At this moment I was contemplating every life decision that may have impacted another person. My life was flashing before my eyes almost literally. I look out the window and find that the ladders are coming nowhere close to being tall enough. I only had one option.

I stood next to the window, the flames were so close to touching me and the smoke was scraping my throat. As it grew closer the heat was unimaginable, it felt like the sun was personally burning my skin. I leaped over the giant flames about to swallow me whole. I ran as fast I could to the stairs, down to the 9th floor. Not a good choice. It was even worse. The fire had spread to the window so people in the back had only one option, to burn.

Back to the stairs I tried to get to the roof. To many people, there was no getting out. So many people flooded the stairs up to the roof and I was one of the only ones pushing to go downstairs, back to where the fire had started. The eighth floor was charred but the flames never stopped. I found Marisa’s handkerchief hanging on a wire just below a window. I climbed onto the edge and sat myself down as carefully as possible. Looking down I couldn’t bear it. There she was. I didn’t even give thought to if she was okay or if she survived when I was running around trying to escape. I had wasted time, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

The flames were caving in. Sitting on the window sill I realized the full extent of the destruction I’d caused. Why should innocent people die if I get to live? This is all my fault. I can’t bear to live with the fact that I killed all these people.

The stairs were basically gone and I had no other option. As I stood up, I remembered my family back home. Who would support them? Would they live? Or would they die of starvation?

I had at least a crowd of 100 people staring me down, and 8 fire men. I counted to pass the time. Only took about 5 seconds. I looked into the city that starved me, but also gave me more food than I could imagine. The city that took me in, but also wanted me gone. The city that thought of me as nothing less than a speck that did the work, in their world. I reflected on everything I have learned here. Everyone I met. Every single person that even showed 1 cent of kindness towards me. Out of everybody, I can only think of Marisa. She deserved much more.

My heart is racing and I knew it wouldn’t be right for me to live. So I jumped.

Backwards. Right into the middle of the flames.

# data[].attributes.body
“10 more minutes,” Josie whispered to herself. She listened to the methodical beating of the needle piercing down into the fabric. It was March 25, 1911. “Only 9 more now,” her friend Bella whispered from the left of her. “Just think, after this we get our pay! We can go buy a nice bread loaf and tea to have for dinner. You can meet Jane, and Yetta...” She trailed off, lost in the oblivion of her own thoughts. “Bella! Pay attention, your sewing machine!” Josie quickly reaches over Bella and straightens out the fabric. Bella sheepishly gets back to her work. “Well, Jane has been great as usual, but I’m worried about Yetta,” she says. “With her sister and the union and Jacob-” Josie cuts her off. “Jacob? Who’s that?” Bella dismissively waves her question off. “Oh, he’s a cutter, he works on the 9th floor, curly brown hair, honey colored eyes… very handsome, actually. You’d know him when you’d see him. Anyway…” As Bella rambled on and on, Josie remembered who Bella was describing. He came down to the eighth floor ever so often to get some new supplies or say hi to his friends, and she always looked forward to it. Josie frequently daydreamed about him when she should be working. “Jacob,” she whispered. “So that’s his name.” Bella looked over at her, mid sentence. “Huh?” “Oh, um, nothing,” Josie quickly assured. “Just, how does Yetta know Jacob?” Josie was afraid that Bella would immediately realize why she was asking her question, but Bella looked more surprised than suspicious. “Oh, Josie, were you even listening to me?” she asked. “Jacob was definitely not what I was talking about. But Yetta met Jacob during the strike… he was a scab-” Josie gasped. “But I thought Yetta was against scabs!” “Well, this was different,” Bella continued. “Anyways, it’s the most romantic story. He came up to her and asked about Jane's job! Jane's job, can you believe it?” She stopped for a moment, trying to stop giggling. “Yetta started pestering him about why he wasn’t a part of the strike. Poor guy just wanted to help Jane find a job! I think he fell in love with Yetta’s spirit and courage. Then later he found her again and asked if she would dance with him, but she said no! I don’t understand why she said no, but I think they secretly have a crush on eachother,” Bella finished. “Oh, okay,” Josie said, her hopes crushed. It sounded like to her that Jacob really did like Yetta. He asked her to dance! Josie started to go back to her work. “Only 5 more minutes,” she whispered again to Bella. Bella started to reply when suddenly people started crying out, sounding like they were coming from the floor below them. “What are they saying?” Josie asked. “It sounds like… fire?!” Bella shrieked. Josie listened carefully. Sure enough, people were screaming “Fire! Fire!” Everyone was shouting in different languages, so scared they forgot how to speak. At that moment a girl burst through the door. She had dark hair and was wearing a dainty gold ring. “Jane! What are you doing here?” Bella shouted over to her. “There is a fire on the eighth floor, it broke out in a rag bin!” Jane called back. “I was looking for Mr. Blank when she told me to come warn you! It’s spreading rapidly because of all the shirtwaist scraps!” Josie bolted out of her chair. “A fire?” Her mind raced through hundreds of images back in Russia, the 1909 pogrom, her village burning down, her mom getting scorched alive, her family getting murdered. Her barely making it out and seeking refuge. Her mom always told her home was where your family was. But where was “home” if you had no one? She snapped back to reality. “Oh, Jane, this is my friend Josie, and Essie, and…” Bella kept blabbering like nothing was wrong. “Bella!” Josie screamed. “The fire… it's here!” Jane ran to the doorway. “Everyone go to the Greene Street Stairs!” she yelled. “The building is fireproof so it shouldn't spread to the roof. You’ll be safe up there!” Meanwhile, the flames kept lapping away at the door. They quickly burst through and danced around the girls. Screams broke out everywhere. The red, orange, and yellow traveled like they had their own brain, ripping through all the extra patterns lying around, burning up the scraps like they’re made of gasoline. The room quickly descended into heat and smoke, so much Josie coughed and sputtered. Girls were trying to shove their way out the doors and through the elevator, but the doors looked locked. What kind of company locks their workers in? Josie felt a fleeting moment of outrageousness, but just like that, it was gone. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the window with the rickety old fire escape on the outside. Josie could tell it had not been inspected carefully and was just there for show, but what other option did she have? The fire was blocking everything now. She ran toward it and pulled the hot window open. Other girls began following her lead, crawling through the window and piling onto the black metal staircase. Josie looked back for Jane and Bella. She saw them standing in the middle of the room, seemingly debating on where to go. “Bella! Jane! Over here!” They both looked in her direction and started running toward her. At that moment, the old fire escape began to sway. It made twenty different creaking noises and a screech followed that was louder than all the screams around the girls. “Wait! It’s going to fall!” Josie yelled. Bella and Jane came to a halt right outside the window. “Josie!” Bella screamed. The staircase finally gave way and she was falling, falling, falling through mid air. Josie felt like she was floating and strangely, didn’t want it to end. Then the reality hit her. She was falling from 9 stories up, of course it was going to end. And she would die. “Oh no, please God, no. I don’t want to die,” she whimpered, holding on to the staircase. She recited all the Jewish prayers she knew, praying, hoping. But it was inevitable. Josie could feel the crowd getting louder and louder and louder and finally, the staircase hit the ground with a sickening crash. Girls went flying everywhere. Josie’s body folded and her head hit the corner of the metal. She felt her head and her hand came away with clotted dark red blood. The pain was so blinding she almost passed out immediately. But she held on, held on until she could get out one last sentence. “Home,” she whispered hoarsely. “My family, I’m coming home.”

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Jacob sat at his bench at around 4:37. He was still at work but he was looking forward to finally leaving in about ten minutes. Jacob handled the shirtwaist patterns and started cutting.

It was easy for him to daydream while he was working.

He had gotten very good at his job, he thought. And he was making good money too. His mind wandered to his family. To his sister, Annika, who he was planning on bringing over from Russia.

Jacob’s parents, who had died tragically, left him and Annika to fend for themselves.

He remembered Annika’s words. “Oh Jacob! America sounds lovely.”, She had written. She was so excited to come see america.

He pulled out a letter in his pocket. It was to Anika, of course. He traced over the words, I miss you. Only a few more months and we can live together.

He stuffed the letter back in his pocket.

This dream of his wasn’t very far off at all.

He thought about Yetta as he watched her talking to another shirtwaist girl. Oh she was so beautiful. So daring, so brave. Jacob loved the way she acted in the strike. She was so determined to make a difference.

Suddenly, Jacob felt a surge of shame for being a scab. I will tell her that when I ask her to dance, he thought. I will ask her after work, surely she will say yes, he thought as he remembered Bella's words. Telling him Yetta had regretted and felt ashamed of saying no to him the first time he had asked. We will get married and spend our lives together. With children and a beautiful family. I will even bring my sister and her husband to live with us and-.

His thoughts were interrupted by a spark of red and orange.

Jacob jumped back but calmly rolled his eyes.

“Antonio! This is the third time this month,” Jacob laughed.

Antonio, turned red faced and ran to get a bucket of water.

Jacob looked away for a second hoping he could find more buckets of water when something sparked and then erupted. He jerked his head back. The small fire started from Antonios cigarette, was big and now dangerous.

Oh No! This is worse than I thought.

Jacob ran to get more buckets of water. Bucket after bucket but the fire only seemed to expand.

He looked around and was shocked. The fire was everywhere.

Girls were screaming and some were crying. He saw Yetta helping up a girl who was fainting. He ran to her.

“Yetta! We’ve got to get these girls out of here.”

They ran to help people. Directing them to the stairs, which they had found. It was a perfect way out. They were going to escape, Jacob thought. But then

Yetta screamed. “The ninth floor. Someone has got to tell the ninth floor!”

And she ran back into the fire.

Jacob escaped with the other girls, but he couldn’t sit still. It could have been either the screaming girls and families around him, watching their closest friends jumping out of windows. Or the fact that Yetta could die. He didn't want to be the person standing around anymore. The scab like he was in the strike. Something pushed him back into the fire. Some spark of energy, of braveness pushed him up the stairs to the tenth floor. He forced himself through the flames, though he knew he could die. Suddenly, he was at Yetta’s side. They were surrounded by fire.

There was nowhere to go. The flames were everywhere.

“I don’t want to die” Yetta cried. “Not here”

Red and orange blurred his vision. Was he crying?

Immediately he remembered the ledge outside the building. The one Antono had joked about jumping off when he got tired of work. Fire swarmed the factory, chasing them to the window. He scooped Yetta up in his arms, and helped her out the window.

They were both standing on the ledge grabbing on to each other. The ledge was so narrow they didn’t want to fall.

He prayed to God, please help me live. I have so much to live for.

“Why did you follow me? Into the fire?”, Yetta asked.

And Jacob told her everything. How he saw her as a striker and admired her passion. How he loved her from the very beginning. He left the part about asking her to dance. There would be no point. They were dying. Together at least.

Yetta was crying. Tears streaming down her face.

Maybe we will dance together in heaven, he thought.

Jacob saw the ladder before Yetta did. He saw the pain in her eyes when she watched it only reach the 6th floor. He saw her mouth the words, I’m sorry, Rahel.

“So this is it, I guess. The end” Yetta said.

Jacob screamed, “No Yetta, It’s not. We will live. We will. We will reach for the ladder and if not, the net. Jump on three.”

Yetta only nodded in agreement.

“3...”, Jacob yelled.

Jacob grabbed Yetta’s hand. It was hot and sweaty. She was nervous, he could tell.

“2…”

Jacob took a deep breath. He repeated in his head, we will live.  He thought about turning back. Jacob felt the warmth of the fire on his back. It was coming. Soon they would have no choice.

“1…”

Jacob suddenly remembered Anika. The letter. The firemen would find the letter. They must give it to her. They must.

Yetta gripped harder. He loved her. He was glad they were jumping together. They leaned forward, until they lost their balance. Gripping onto Yetta, Jacob prayed Jewish prayers he had practiced.

The ladder was close.

Jacob reached his arms out, Yetta did too. So close. He was so close.

But he missed it. And they fell. It was at that moment that he knew they would die. The net is not strong enough, he thought.

Farther and farther down. It felt like a million years. Would they ever hit the net? Jacob prepared himself for his death, his life was ending. And he didn’t even get to see his sister. And Yetta-

Please, dear God, if I die, let Yetta live. Please, God. Please.

Finally. They hit the net. He closed his eyes, but nothing felt different. Were they dead? Firemen were screaming in his ears. The net hadn’t split. It almost did, but it didn’t. He turned and looked at Yetta, who was lying unconscious from shock. He watched as she got carried into the ambulance, but he knew she was alive. It all felt unreal.

He laid in the net and watched many other young girls jump, and not live. People screamed all around him. This is horrifying, he thought. But Jacob felt so lucky to be alive.

They had lived, he thought. It was a miracle.