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Imagine a life without entertainment, nothing to please your social needs. No chance of driving through some of the meanest tracks on GT3 or being able to hop on a jet ski and strut you stuff on Wave Race. Imagine having a life where you had very little time if any to enjoy yourself. Imagine being put to work in the worst conditions possible, you are a child and are very defenceless no one to confide in… just working in a dangerous mill
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*You are a child working in a highly dangerous mill, no time to talk to friends, no time to play. No time…*
I really couldn’t confide in anyone else, since my best friend went… I know you are only a small dull gravestone, but I just want someone to listen to me. There is no one to speak to I am alone in a child abusing world. I had my arm ripped off by a machine. A spinning machine crushed my best friend. He was made to walk across the beam, which was above all the machinery. He lost his footing and was pounded into the spinning blade. The white floor had been covered with an evil red. The mill owner did not show any sign of emotion he said “clear up this mess”. That was my best friend lying on the floor in a red liquid. I had to wipe my best friend away.
The death of my best friend made me run away to seek safety. I could not bear to be within a foot of the mill owner how could someone be that evil to a child. I am twelve years old, I’m not sure what my name is or where I was born. The mill owner just calls me boy. I know that I have brothers and sisters but we were separated and I don’t think I will ever find them again.
The hours we work are extremely long, almost inhumane. The mill owner does not permit breaks and we only have one meal a day. The meal we have tastes foul but it’s the only source of food that keeps us alive. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t alive.
The only time we have free is when we get really badly injured and it’s not physically possible to work. It’s very difficult for me to work with one arm so I get whipped across the back when I don’t work quick enough! I am not able to sleep on my back any more because the wounds are too painful.
A few weeks ago a boy came to the mill. He was learning to use the machines and within a few days the mill owner took a real liking to him and gave him a small amount of food as a reward. He became to like the rewards and was always working really quickly. He got tired very quickly and a week after he arrived he lost his footing and slipped under the machine and a boy had to clean him away.
The mill is like a prison, anything you do wrong results in a punishment of some kind. The punishments range from one-pound weights around your ears to large weights tied around your neck. We a re children and these weights are damaging our growth; there is a boy at the mill who has a bent back due to the weights. It is like Death stands over us when we make a mistake.
When the mill owner finally stops for the night we are made to sleep in a barn. There are one hundred and sixty of us and the barn becomes very hot and cramped. We sleep two to a mattress and the mattresses are side by side with no room in between. The few girls in the mill sleep at the other end of the barn. It seems as soon as we fall asleep we are woken up with a slash across the leg.
On Sundays we do not have to work the whole day, we finish at noon. In the afternoon we have to attend church. We also learn how to write so we can write things for the mill owner.
I feel I have to keep on running from the mill owner or he will kill me. I hope he doesn’t find me…
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Could you imagine conditions like this? Our world is so much better than this and we have wonderfull things such as games to amuse us, but children use to have no time for anything...
------------------------------------------------
*You are a child working in a highly dangerous mill, no time to talk to friends, no time to play. No time…*
I really couldn’t confide in anyone else, since my best friend went… I know you are only a small dull gravestone, but I just want someone to listen to me. There is no one to speak to I am alone in a child abusing world. I had my arm ripped off by a machine. A spinning machine crushed my best friend. He was made to walk across the beam, which was above all the machinery. He lost his footing and was pounded into the spinning blade. The white floor had been covered with an evil red. The mill owner did not show any sign of emotion he said “clear up this mess”. That was my best friend lying on the floor in a red liquid. I had to wipe my best friend away.
The death of my best friend made me run away to seek safety. I could not bear to be within a foot of the mill owner how could someone be that evil to a child. I am twelve years old, I’m not sure what my name is or where I was born. The mill owner just calls me boy. I know that I have brothers and sisters but we were separated and I don’t think I will ever find them again.
The hours we work are extremely long, almost inhumane. The mill owner does not permit breaks and we only have one meal a day. The meal we have tastes foul but it’s the only source of food that keeps us alive. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t alive.
The only time we have free is when we get really badly injured and it’s not physically possible to work. It’s very difficult for me to work with one arm so I get whipped across the back when I don’t work quick enough! I am not able to sleep on my back any more because the wounds are too painful.
A few weeks ago a boy came to the mill. He was learning to use the machines and within a few days the mill owner took a real liking to him and gave him a small amount of food as a reward. He became to like the rewards and was always working really quickly. He got tired very quickly and a week after he arrived he lost his footing and slipped under the machine and a boy had to clean him away.
The mill is like a prison, anything you do wrong results in a punishment of some kind. The punishments range from one-pound weights around your ears to large weights tied around your neck. We a re children and these weights are damaging our growth; there is a boy at the mill who has a bent back due to the weights. It is like Death stands over us when we make a mistake.
When the mill owner finally stops for the night we are made to sleep in a barn. There are one hundred and sixty of us and the barn becomes very hot and cramped. We sleep two to a mattress and the mattresses are side by side with no room in between. The few girls in the mill sleep at the other end of the barn. It seems as soon as we fall asleep we are woken up with a slash across the leg.
On Sundays we do not have to work the whole day, we finish at noon. In the afternoon we have to attend church. We also learn how to write so we can write things for the mill owner.
I feel I have to keep on running from the mill owner or he will kill me. I hope he doesn’t find me…
--------------------------------------------------
Could you imagine conditions like this? Our world is so much better than this and we have wonderfull things such as games to amuse us, but children use to have no time for anything...
Imagine a life without entertainment, nothing to please your social needs. No chance of driving through some of the meanest tracks on GT3 or being able to hop on a jet ski and strut you stuff on Wave Race. Imagine having a life where you had very little time if any to enjoy yourself. Imagine being put to work in the worst conditions possible, you are a child and are very defenceless no one to confide in… just working in a dangerous mill
------------------------------------------------
*You are a child working in a highly dangerous mill, no time to talk to friends, no time to play. No time…*
I really couldn’t confide in anyone else, since my best friend went… I know you are only a small dull gravestone, but I just want someone to listen to me. There is no one to speak to I am alone in a child abusing world. I had my arm ripped off by a machine. A spinning machine crushed my best friend. He was made to walk across the beam, which was above all the machinery. He lost his footing and was pounded into the spinning blade. The white floor had been covered with an evil red. The mill owner did not show any sign of emotion he said “clear up this mess”. That was my best friend lying on the floor in a red liquid. I had to wipe my best friend away.
The death of my best friend made me run away to seek safety. I could not bear to be within a foot of the mill owner how could someone be that evil to a child. I am twelve years old, I’m not sure what my name is or where I was born. The mill owner just calls me boy. I know that I have brothers and sisters but we were separated and I don’t think I will ever find them again.
The hours we work are extremely long, almost inhumane. The mill owner does not permit breaks and we only have one meal a day. The meal we have tastes foul but it’s the only source of food that keeps us alive. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t alive.
The only time we have free is when we get really badly injured and it’s not physically possible to work. It’s very difficult for me to work with one arm so I get whipped across the back when I don’t work quick enough! I am not able to sleep on my back any more because the wounds are too painful.
A few weeks ago a boy came to the mill. He was learning to use the machines and within a few days the mill owner took a real liking to him and gave him a small amount of food as a reward. He became to like the rewards and was always working really quickly. He got tired very quickly and a week after he arrived he lost his footing and slipped under the machine and a boy had to clean him away.
The mill is like a prison, anything you do wrong results in a punishment of some kind. The punishments range from one-pound weights around your ears to large weights tied around your neck. We a re children and these weights are damaging our growth; there is a boy at the mill who has a bent back due to the weights. It is like Death stands over us when we make a mistake.
When the mill owner finally stops for the night we are made to sleep in a barn. There are one hundred and sixty of us and the barn becomes very hot and cramped. We sleep two to a mattress and the mattresses are side by side with no room in between. The few girls in the mill sleep at the other end of the barn. It seems as soon as we fall asleep we are woken up with a slash across the leg.
On Sundays we do not have to work the whole day, we finish at noon. In the afternoon we have to attend church. We also learn how to write so we can write things for the mill owner.
I feel I have to keep on running from the mill owner or he will kill me. I hope he doesn’t find me…
--------------------------------------------------
Could you imagine conditions like this? Our world is so much better than this and we have wonderfull things such as games to amuse us, but children use to have no time for anything...
------------------------------------------------
*You are a child working in a highly dangerous mill, no time to talk to friends, no time to play. No time…*
I really couldn’t confide in anyone else, since my best friend went… I know you are only a small dull gravestone, but I just want someone to listen to me. There is no one to speak to I am alone in a child abusing world. I had my arm ripped off by a machine. A spinning machine crushed my best friend. He was made to walk across the beam, which was above all the machinery. He lost his footing and was pounded into the spinning blade. The white floor had been covered with an evil red. The mill owner did not show any sign of emotion he said “clear up this mess”. That was my best friend lying on the floor in a red liquid. I had to wipe my best friend away.
The death of my best friend made me run away to seek safety. I could not bear to be within a foot of the mill owner how could someone be that evil to a child. I am twelve years old, I’m not sure what my name is or where I was born. The mill owner just calls me boy. I know that I have brothers and sisters but we were separated and I don’t think I will ever find them again.
The hours we work are extremely long, almost inhumane. The mill owner does not permit breaks and we only have one meal a day. The meal we have tastes foul but it’s the only source of food that keeps us alive. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t alive.
The only time we have free is when we get really badly injured and it’s not physically possible to work. It’s very difficult for me to work with one arm so I get whipped across the back when I don’t work quick enough! I am not able to sleep on my back any more because the wounds are too painful.
A few weeks ago a boy came to the mill. He was learning to use the machines and within a few days the mill owner took a real liking to him and gave him a small amount of food as a reward. He became to like the rewards and was always working really quickly. He got tired very quickly and a week after he arrived he lost his footing and slipped under the machine and a boy had to clean him away.
The mill is like a prison, anything you do wrong results in a punishment of some kind. The punishments range from one-pound weights around your ears to large weights tied around your neck. We a re children and these weights are damaging our growth; there is a boy at the mill who has a bent back due to the weights. It is like Death stands over us when we make a mistake.
When the mill owner finally stops for the night we are made to sleep in a barn. There are one hundred and sixty of us and the barn becomes very hot and cramped. We sleep two to a mattress and the mattresses are side by side with no room in between. The few girls in the mill sleep at the other end of the barn. It seems as soon as we fall asleep we are woken up with a slash across the leg.
On Sundays we do not have to work the whole day, we finish at noon. In the afternoon we have to attend church. We also learn how to write so we can write things for the mill owner.
I feel I have to keep on running from the mill owner or he will kill me. I hope he doesn’t find me…
--------------------------------------------------
Could you imagine conditions like this? Our world is so much better than this and we have wonderfull things such as games to amuse us, but children use to have no time for anything...
Interesting read, I'm not really sure how to reply to this other than to say good post. :)
Saying that, if I was around in Japan in 1880 I would probably be playing with characterised playing cards, the first game product from none other than...Nintendo!
:)
Saying that, if I was around in Japan in 1880 I would probably be playing with characterised playing cards, the first game product from none other than...Nintendo!
:)
what RM18 said
lol
lol
ditto
Woah!
Thats like some of the lessons I had in my old Hitory class!
*shudders*
Well anyway, it was good. I couldnt imagine a life without entertainment because if im really bored and everything as theres nothing to do (yeah right) then id just make myself laugh by thinking of something weird and wonderful.
:D
Seeing as though we were born into all the latest technology I think its hard to not take it all for granted as its how we live our lives nowadays and its even harder just to imagine what conditions would be like in a situation like that, and thats only because we have never experienced anything like it in our lives ourselves.
Nice post. Well done mate.
:)
Thats like some of the lessons I had in my old Hitory class!
*shudders*
Well anyway, it was good. I couldnt imagine a life without entertainment because if im really bored and everything as theres nothing to do (yeah right) then id just make myself laugh by thinking of something weird and wonderful.
:D
Seeing as though we were born into all the latest technology I think its hard to not take it all for granted as its how we live our lives nowadays and its even harder just to imagine what conditions would be like in a situation like that, and thats only because we have never experienced anything like it in our lives ourselves.
Nice post. Well done mate.
:)
Great post. A life without entertainment just leaves school.*Urrrgh*
great post a life without entertainment would be so boring