Previous Challenge Entry (EDITOR'S CHOICE)
Topic: MATCH( 08/26/21)
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TITLE:
Striking a Match in the Darkness | Writing Challenge By Bonnie Bowden 09/02/21 |
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3rd Place
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East London
Emma trudged through the snow, pulling her threadbare coat tighter around her. The wind’s icy fingers sent chills down her spine. In the distance, she could see clouds of smoke billowing from the tall stack of Bryant and May, the factory where she worked. The gas lamps spilled out pools of light, casting a golden glow over the white crystals. Dawn would break soon, but the streets were far from quiet. London was a city that never slept.
In front of her, groups of other girls and women marched toward the mill. The smell of horse manure in the gutter mingled with sulfurous fumes from the chimney assaulted her senses.
As she entered the factory floor, the din of machinery was deafening. Her best friend, Mary, was coating the end of a matchstick with a chalky-white powdery chemical called phosphorous. They were both fourteen and had met at work.
“This stuff makes me jaw hurt something awful an’ gives me headaches,†she shouted over the racket.
“Maybe we can ask Mr. Bainbridge if he can move you to the packing department.â€
“I’ve tried.†He says, “I’m needed here.â€
“I’ll speak to you later,†Emma said. “I can see the foreman watching.†She couldn’t risk losing any pay, especially this close to Christmas. Four shillings wasn’t much. But with her mom’s seamstress work, the money kept them from living in the workhouse.
She hoped that Mary wasn’t getting phossy jaw. Another lady that had worked there was forced to leave after her face became swollen and gave a greenish-white glow in the dark. Gossip circulated that she had an operation and had to have part of her jaw removed.
After hanging up her coat, Emma started her ten-hour shift. She and her workmate, Molly, were responsible for cutting the long strips of wood in half, both ends of which had already been dipped in phosphorus to create the matchheads. Most of that time was spent standing on their feet. Her mind wandered for a moment. She often wondered what life would have been like if her father hadn’t passed away. He used to say, “We’re poor as church mice, yet richer than kings.â€
“Wake up! You don’t want to cut off a finger.â€
Molly was right. This was a dangerous job. Any lack of focus could cause injury or death.
The monotony of the day continued as before. Suddenly, she heard a scream. Emma ran from her workshop to see what the commotion was about. A young girl knelt on the floor trying to pick up some matches she spilled.
“You clumsy cow!†Mr. Fox said. “You can expect to lose a half-day’s pay.â€
Emma bent down and helped the young girl pick up the matches off the floor. The end of the workday couldn’t come soon enough.
Finally, it was time to walk the three blocks back home. Emma hoped since it was Christmas Eve that her mother had made some type of meat stew. She looked forward to going to church and having the day off.
When she opened the door, she smelled the aroma of freshly baked bread. Her mother ran to her and embraced her in a hug.
“I have wonderful news. I talked to a man at the Salvation Army. He has promised you a job at the match factory on Lamprill Road. They only make safe matches using red phosphorous, and you would receive more pay.â€
Tears rolled down Emma’s cheeks. “God has truly answered our prayers. Maybe they'll hire my friend, too.â€
Together they lit a candle and sang “Silent Night.â€
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“For thou wilt light my candle: the Lord my God will enlighten my darkness.†Psalm 18:28 (KJV)
Sources:
https://britishindustrialrevolution.weebly.com
The Matchgirl/Lynette Rees
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