In Time
by: Jesse Conlon
Chapter One
Changes
"Fire! Fire!"
"Get those buckets over here!"
Screams and the ringing of warning bells filled the night, mixing with the smoke and confusion. Red flames reached into the dark sky, curling around an old building, licking the windows and eating away at the walls. A small crowd of people who yelled, cried, and stared began to gather. Scared, mesmerized children clung to worried, weeping women in their night robes. Their men, sweaty and ash-covered, worked frantically to put out the fire. Children stumbled away from the burning building, some leaned on each other for support while others found refuge in the arms of orphanage workers and brave rescuers. One child, little more than a toddler, was placed in the arms of a bystander by the man who'd pulled her from the burning wreckage. Singed and smeared with soot, she fought hysterically against the one who held her, her baby curls tangled, her face red and tear-streaked.
"Kaitlin!" she shrieked, crying for the only mother she'd ever known. "Kaitlin!" The orphan she longed for didn't emerge from the fire, and as the minutes ticked away, any hope that she would faded in the minds of those nearby. But the little girl didn't understand this, and she screamed until her tiny voice gave way and she cried herself to sleep in the arms of a stranger.
Deep in the core of the inferno, a young girl was crouched on the ground, her night gown pulled up around her knees to allow her more freedom of movement. She crawled across the room, coughing from the smoke and heat. Her body working on instinct, she checked the cot next to hers, and found it empty. As she crawled through the burning rooms, searching for an exit, she found no one. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped they had all made it out alive. When the girl finally stumbled out into the cool night air, she staggered blindly across the street and into an alley. There she crumpled to the ground, exhausted, and let sleep overtake her. In the chaos, no one noticed the lone figure who had escaped out a back way. Later she would be counted among the dead. Many already unloved, parentless children were turned out onto the street that night, the fire claiming the only home they'd had.
. . . . .
Sarah held tightly to her elder brother's hand as they wandered through the marketplace. As usual, the streets were crammed with many different types of people, buying, selling, and going about their business. Sean pulled her out of the way as a wagon rumbled past.
"You okay?" he asked. She smiled and nodded, pulling her threadbare shawl around her shoulders. He was 17, tall, with golden brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that reflected her own. In all but those eyes, they were opposites, and people usually didn't recognize them as family. We're the only family we have, she thought.
"Hey, look," he said suddenly. Sarah followed his gaze to a fruit stand, nearly overflowing with ripe fruit. Her stomach growled in counterpart to his and she sighed.
"Sean, we can't..." He sighed also and shook himself out of his wishful thinking.
It had been hard finding food and shelter since the landlady had turned them out a couple months ago. Sarah swallowed hard at the memories that flooded her mind at the thought of that time. Sean slipped his arm around her shoulders.
"Hey, are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes." He studied her face for a moment, trying to read her thoughts. Over the past few weeks he had been growing increasingly worried about her, she was becoming quieter and more listless by the day.
"You want to go to Central Park? I'll pick you some flowers."
She brightened and hugged him. "Can we?" He grinned gallantly and deepened his voice, "But of course, fair lady. In fact, I shall escort you personally."
The two spent the rest of the morning at the park, picking flowers, rolling in the grass, and scaring the ducks. Around noon, they sat underneath a tree, watching the people walk by.
After a while Sean stood, "I'll be right back, Sarah."
She glanced at him curiously, "Where are you going?" He just squeezed her hand and turned away, "I'll be right back."
Sarah watched her brother step out amid the pedestrians, most of whom were well dressed and obviously from a higher class of society. He stood out in his ragged trousers, shirt, and suspenders, all of which needed a wash and mending. She made a mental note to mend both of their clothes as soon as she found the materials. Sean disappeared from sight for a few minutes and the young girl began to slip into her own thoughts. She was jerked back to the present at the sound of someone yelling. She jumped to her feet when she heard a police whistle, and stared blankly at the chaotic crowd that was gathering around the angry voice. Then her wits came back to her and she hurried over to see the commotion. Elbowing her way through the onlookers, she managed a glimpse of what was at their center. The yelling came from a rather fat, over dressed, high society man in a top hat, who was red in the face and screaming something about pick-pockets. She glanced at him, but what caught her attention next made her breath catch in her throat. There was Sean, being manhandled by two policemen. They struggled to arrest the boy and pacify his accuser at the same time. Sean wasn't resisting in any way, but stood with his shoulders drooping and his head bowed. For a moment, Sarah's brain stopped working, and she stared dumbly at the scene. Then the reality of what was happening began to wash over her and she started crying.
"Sean!" His head jerked up and his eyes searched the crowd for his sister. Half hidden behind one of the bystanders, tears were rolling down her cheeks as she tried to push her way into the center. He shook his head, and she stopped. His message was clear: Stay out of it. I do not want you to get in trouble too. Sarah stayed frozen in place, held by his silent orders to stay behind. The fat man was beginning to enjoy his audience now, and he accused Sean of all sorts of ridiculous crimes, grand theft, assault, everything short of murder. One of the policemen was making note of it all with interest. All of this passed by the two children in blur. As the policemen began to lead Sean off, he and his sister locked gazes, and he mouthed, "I love you." Then he was gone, pulled into the crowd.
As they were swept away, Sarah started sobbing and sank down in the grass. She buried her face in her hands, painfully aware of what had just happened. For weeks Sean had been slipping away by himself to come back a few minutes later with money or food. She had never questioned where he'd gotten them, she didn't want to know. Besides, she trusted her brother, and knew he would do anything to protect her. Now he was gone. Sarah wasn't stupid, she and Sean both knew enough about life in the lower class to know that he was in serious trouble, whether he did what he was accused of or not. It was almost certain that he would not be given a fair trial. A trial. New tears appeared at this thought. It was not unusual for children to go to court, with no support from the city or the law, and be put away in some prison somewhere, even for minor or alleged crimes. 'Cleaning up the streets,' they said. There was one less child on the streets that night, but in return, the city gained two broken hearts and a girl, sleeping alone in a park. For the first time in her life her brother wasn't there to put his arms around her when she got scared. And she was terrified.
. . . . .
Clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety- clickety... Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump...
Huge machinery whirred and clanged, controlled only by small, worn looking masters. Row upon row of girls of all ages sat, tending their looms, keeping them working properly and trying not to think about what would happen if they made a mistake. There was a nervous aura hanging in the stale, too loud air today. Rumors had been flying for the past week. Something about an inspector. Someone mentioned child labor laws. The workers worried, they needed these jobs to survive, and many to support their families. They knew that it would be easier for the 'boss' to simply let some of them go rather than raise wages or...what had the newspaper said? "Improve working conditions." Their fears had been confirmed over the last hour as several of them were called out because 'the boss wanted to speak with them', and they did not return.
Kayli sat between her looms, she was strong for her size, so she had two. Hands moving quickly and confidently, she kept all the pieces moving correctly. She wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around her, and she jumped when one of the supervisors showed up at her side. He raised his voice above the noise, "You're wanted in the office, young lady. Give your looms to someone else for now." Kayli felt herself growing nervous, but obediently did as he asked.
"Lila!" she called to the girl next to her.
"Yeah?"
"Could you take over for me for now? I'll explain later."
"Sure."
But as it turned out, Kayli didn't have a chance to explain. Lila worked three looms by herself for the rest of the day, wondering what had happened to her friend. She found a note on her bed at the boarding house that night.
Lila,
I am sorry I can't tell you this in person, but they wanted me out of here fast. The boss said they were downsizing, whatever that means. Guess I just wanted to say thanks for being such a great friend. I'll miss you.
Love always, Kayli
. . . . .
The streets of Manhattan were bustling with the usual morning activity. Vendors, factory workers, parents, and newsboys hurried along, going about their various tasks. In the midst of the crowd, amid many more like it, there was a fruit stand. All sorts of wonderfully ripe fruits and vegetables were stacked high. The merchant was too busy selling his wares and keeping an eye on his merchandise to notice a small, dirty figure making its way towards him.
Clad in a tan, striped shirt, brown trousers, and a scruffy old hat, the figure blended perfectly with nearly every other street rat in the city, and appeared to be perfectly at home in his environment. At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about him, until you noticed his smooth, confident, almost cat-like way of moving. Until you saw how he slipped past the fruit stand with out ever coming in contact with it, yet as he walked off, he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a beautiful red apple. Until you got a little closer and saw that the dirt, hat and clothes hid a surprisingly pretty face and slender figure that was just beginning to bloom. The child had high, arched eyebrows set over sparkling blue-green eyes and feminine features that were gently dusted with freckles. If you got even closer, you would see the delicate strawberry blonde curls that peeked from beneath her cap, and you would hear her chuckle to herself as she took a bite out of the apple.
"Piece of cake," she said, and "accidentally" bumped into a well dressed business man. "Sorry, sir," she mumbled humbly, before walking off with a brand new pocket watch.
by: Jesse Conlon
Chapter One
Changes
"Fire! Fire!"
"Get those buckets over here!"
Screams and the ringing of warning bells filled the night, mixing with the smoke and confusion. Red flames reached into the dark sky, curling around an old building, licking the windows and eating away at the walls. A small crowd of people who yelled, cried, and stared began to gather. Scared, mesmerized children clung to worried, weeping women in their night robes. Their men, sweaty and ash-covered, worked frantically to put out the fire. Children stumbled away from the burning building, some leaned on each other for support while others found refuge in the arms of orphanage workers and brave rescuers. One child, little more than a toddler, was placed in the arms of a bystander by the man who'd pulled her from the burning wreckage. Singed and smeared with soot, she fought hysterically against the one who held her, her baby curls tangled, her face red and tear-streaked.
"Kaitlin!" she shrieked, crying for the only mother she'd ever known. "Kaitlin!" The orphan she longed for didn't emerge from the fire, and as the minutes ticked away, any hope that she would faded in the minds of those nearby. But the little girl didn't understand this, and she screamed until her tiny voice gave way and she cried herself to sleep in the arms of a stranger.
Deep in the core of the inferno, a young girl was crouched on the ground, her night gown pulled up around her knees to allow her more freedom of movement. She crawled across the room, coughing from the smoke and heat. Her body working on instinct, she checked the cot next to hers, and found it empty. As she crawled through the burning rooms, searching for an exit, she found no one. Somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped they had all made it out alive. When the girl finally stumbled out into the cool night air, she staggered blindly across the street and into an alley. There she crumpled to the ground, exhausted, and let sleep overtake her. In the chaos, no one noticed the lone figure who had escaped out a back way. Later she would be counted among the dead. Many already unloved, parentless children were turned out onto the street that night, the fire claiming the only home they'd had.
. . . . .
Sarah held tightly to her elder brother's hand as they wandered through the marketplace. As usual, the streets were crammed with many different types of people, buying, selling, and going about their business. Sean pulled her out of the way as a wagon rumbled past.
"You okay?" he asked. She smiled and nodded, pulling her threadbare shawl around her shoulders. He was 17, tall, with golden brown hair and sparkling blue eyes that reflected her own. In all but those eyes, they were opposites, and people usually didn't recognize them as family. We're the only family we have, she thought.
"Hey, look," he said suddenly. Sarah followed his gaze to a fruit stand, nearly overflowing with ripe fruit. Her stomach growled in counterpart to his and she sighed.
"Sean, we can't..." He sighed also and shook himself out of his wishful thinking.
It had been hard finding food and shelter since the landlady had turned them out a couple months ago. Sarah swallowed hard at the memories that flooded her mind at the thought of that time. Sean slipped his arm around her shoulders.
"Hey, are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes." He studied her face for a moment, trying to read her thoughts. Over the past few weeks he had been growing increasingly worried about her, she was becoming quieter and more listless by the day.
"You want to go to Central Park? I'll pick you some flowers."
She brightened and hugged him. "Can we?" He grinned gallantly and deepened his voice, "But of course, fair lady. In fact, I shall escort you personally."
The two spent the rest of the morning at the park, picking flowers, rolling in the grass, and scaring the ducks. Around noon, they sat underneath a tree, watching the people walk by.
After a while Sean stood, "I'll be right back, Sarah."
She glanced at him curiously, "Where are you going?" He just squeezed her hand and turned away, "I'll be right back."
Sarah watched her brother step out amid the pedestrians, most of whom were well dressed and obviously from a higher class of society. He stood out in his ragged trousers, shirt, and suspenders, all of which needed a wash and mending. She made a mental note to mend both of their clothes as soon as she found the materials. Sean disappeared from sight for a few minutes and the young girl began to slip into her own thoughts. She was jerked back to the present at the sound of someone yelling. She jumped to her feet when she heard a police whistle, and stared blankly at the chaotic crowd that was gathering around the angry voice. Then her wits came back to her and she hurried over to see the commotion. Elbowing her way through the onlookers, she managed a glimpse of what was at their center. The yelling came from a rather fat, over dressed, high society man in a top hat, who was red in the face and screaming something about pick-pockets. She glanced at him, but what caught her attention next made her breath catch in her throat. There was Sean, being manhandled by two policemen. They struggled to arrest the boy and pacify his accuser at the same time. Sean wasn't resisting in any way, but stood with his shoulders drooping and his head bowed. For a moment, Sarah's brain stopped working, and she stared dumbly at the scene. Then the reality of what was happening began to wash over her and she started crying.
"Sean!" His head jerked up and his eyes searched the crowd for his sister. Half hidden behind one of the bystanders, tears were rolling down her cheeks as she tried to push her way into the center. He shook his head, and she stopped. His message was clear: Stay out of it. I do not want you to get in trouble too. Sarah stayed frozen in place, held by his silent orders to stay behind. The fat man was beginning to enjoy his audience now, and he accused Sean of all sorts of ridiculous crimes, grand theft, assault, everything short of murder. One of the policemen was making note of it all with interest. All of this passed by the two children in blur. As the policemen began to lead Sean off, he and his sister locked gazes, and he mouthed, "I love you." Then he was gone, pulled into the crowd.
As they were swept away, Sarah started sobbing and sank down in the grass. She buried her face in her hands, painfully aware of what had just happened. For weeks Sean had been slipping away by himself to come back a few minutes later with money or food. She had never questioned where he'd gotten them, she didn't want to know. Besides, she trusted her brother, and knew he would do anything to protect her. Now he was gone. Sarah wasn't stupid, she and Sean both knew enough about life in the lower class to know that he was in serious trouble, whether he did what he was accused of or not. It was almost certain that he would not be given a fair trial. A trial. New tears appeared at this thought. It was not unusual for children to go to court, with no support from the city or the law, and be put away in some prison somewhere, even for minor or alleged crimes. 'Cleaning up the streets,' they said. There was one less child on the streets that night, but in return, the city gained two broken hearts and a girl, sleeping alone in a park. For the first time in her life her brother wasn't there to put his arms around her when she got scared. And she was terrified.
. . . . .
Clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety-clickety- clickety... Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump...
Huge machinery whirred and clanged, controlled only by small, worn looking masters. Row upon row of girls of all ages sat, tending their looms, keeping them working properly and trying not to think about what would happen if they made a mistake. There was a nervous aura hanging in the stale, too loud air today. Rumors had been flying for the past week. Something about an inspector. Someone mentioned child labor laws. The workers worried, they needed these jobs to survive, and many to support their families. They knew that it would be easier for the 'boss' to simply let some of them go rather than raise wages or...what had the newspaper said? "Improve working conditions." Their fears had been confirmed over the last hour as several of them were called out because 'the boss wanted to speak with them', and they did not return.
Kayli sat between her looms, she was strong for her size, so she had two. Hands moving quickly and confidently, she kept all the pieces moving correctly. She wasn't paying much attention to what was going on around her, and she jumped when one of the supervisors showed up at her side. He raised his voice above the noise, "You're wanted in the office, young lady. Give your looms to someone else for now." Kayli felt herself growing nervous, but obediently did as he asked.
"Lila!" she called to the girl next to her.
"Yeah?"
"Could you take over for me for now? I'll explain later."
"Sure."
But as it turned out, Kayli didn't have a chance to explain. Lila worked three looms by herself for the rest of the day, wondering what had happened to her friend. She found a note on her bed at the boarding house that night.
Lila,
I am sorry I can't tell you this in person, but they wanted me out of here fast. The boss said they were downsizing, whatever that means. Guess I just wanted to say thanks for being such a great friend. I'll miss you.
Love always, Kayli
. . . . .
The streets of Manhattan were bustling with the usual morning activity. Vendors, factory workers, parents, and newsboys hurried along, going about their various tasks. In the midst of the crowd, amid many more like it, there was a fruit stand. All sorts of wonderfully ripe fruits and vegetables were stacked high. The merchant was too busy selling his wares and keeping an eye on his merchandise to notice a small, dirty figure making its way towards him.
Clad in a tan, striped shirt, brown trousers, and a scruffy old hat, the figure blended perfectly with nearly every other street rat in the city, and appeared to be perfectly at home in his environment. At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about him, until you noticed his smooth, confident, almost cat-like way of moving. Until you saw how he slipped past the fruit stand with out ever coming in contact with it, yet as he walked off, he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a beautiful red apple. Until you got a little closer and saw that the dirt, hat and clothes hid a surprisingly pretty face and slender figure that was just beginning to bloom. The child had high, arched eyebrows set over sparkling blue-green eyes and feminine features that were gently dusted with freckles. If you got even closer, you would see the delicate strawberry blonde curls that peeked from beneath her cap, and you would hear her chuckle to herself as she took a bite out of the apple.
"Piece of cake," she said, and "accidentally" bumped into a well dressed business man. "Sorry, sir," she mumbled humbly, before walking off with a brand new pocket watch.