Journal of a factory worker

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Friday, April 13th, 1831
Manchester, England

Dearest Dairy,
Today, all I could think about was how I miss life on the farm. Things were so simple on the farm. I used to get breakfast and supper, and even a real dinner. I miss my brothers and mother so.
The reason we all had to move from our family farm to the crowded city was because Father had past away. Even with my brothers working the farm, we didn’t make enough money to keep all the cows and horses. So, my mother, my brother and I moved into the city, looking for jobs. Before we left, my mother had cut our hair, so it shall not get caught in the machinery. Yet she did cut my hair for another reason. My mother hoped that if she cut my hair and dressed me in boys’ clothes, that I could pass as a boy. If I did, I might be able to be in the same dormitory as my brother. I would also be paid more money than a woman would.
By chance, I was placed in the same room as my brother. All the boys in the dormitories have to share a bed, so I was willing to share with my brother. It is not a big change, because on the farm, I also had to share my bed with my brother. In the house of about 25-35 boys, there is only one toilet and water pump. I am now grateful for growing up with 8 brothers, because I now do not have to use the restroom that often. On the farm, we also had only one pump, but there were not as many people there.
Outside of our housing, the streets are littered. It smells much worse than the barn at our farm. I would gladly smell the familiar smell of manure than the disgusting smell of the streets. Apparently, people think that the streets are waste baskets, since there is trash and sewage covering the dirt roads.
When we arrived here, the jobs weren’t open. We had to wait for and opening in the very low paid, hard jobs. There were lines of people, waiting around, ready to fill in those positions. Though, my mother got a job that very first day. My brother and I had to sleep on the gross streets that night. The next morning, my brother got a job in a mine. As he walked off to his job, I felt a twinge of worry for him, as I knew mines could be very dangerous. That night, I had to sleep by my own, for the first time since I was two. I couldn’t quite fall asleep, because my mind had wondered to my brother. I felt so worried.
As the next week went by, I was worried that I might not get a job. But, one morning, a man dressed in a suite came to get a child to replace one that had gotten sick. He saw me and told me to go with him. He showed me how to replace the bobbins. Then he left me to my work. I discovered how hard some people’s lives were. Now I work 13 hours a day and have 15 minutes to take a break and eat oat-cakes.
Even through the bad times, I think being in the city is cool. There is a bunch of inventions that I would never have known of if I was on the farm right now. I’ve over heard the bosses about voting. I wish that I could vote some day, but I’m a female and females aren’t allowed to vote. Although, people here believe I’m a boy.
I just want to go home. I want to see my brothers again, I miss them so much. I also miss Father. I wish he could see how I’ve changed; that his baby girl is all grown up.
Sincerely,
Petunia Pendagraph




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hmmm... huhmmmmm.. hmm manchester england, 1831 was it? hmm i think this sounded more like, liverpool, 1903. I dont think they used "cool" as a state of being... knwo what i mean? but huh... yea, pentunia pentegraph,, i like that name... but you know.. i dont know where you were going with this... i think you went back a little too far back in time. I mean, this is more american then english, as it is. i couldnt imagine, if this was historically accurate to their dilect, how you would do it. but hey who cares right? maybe they did speak like this... and stuff. well, i wish you good luck, petunia pentegram in all of your hardships you may crosss. god speed.

ps. i hope you get back to your farm.
purple bunnies hop at midnight




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Hello!

Overall Comments

I'm not going to give you a nit-pick, because you can easily catch any mistakes you made and nothing jumped out at me.

So! First things first. This doesn't really belong in non-fiction – it should be in Historical. Unless this happened to you (which I doubt?) or it really happened to a real person, it's not non-fiction. This is FICTION.

Also, ditch the word 'cool.' That's slang that us weirdos made up – they wouldn't use it back then.

Your language is… odd. It doesn't feel real at all. It sounds like you tried to sound all proper and amazing and failed. Go read old diaries. (Google!) Learn how they spoke.

And really; this is a diary. Most people, especially back then, didn't write in them so scarcely. So she wouldn't have to catch the diary up – and she would have already explained life on the farm and her father dying at the VERY least. So show the immediate emotions from TODAY, give us hints on the past, let us figure it out as it unravels, or start sooner.

And excite me, will you? What is encouraging me to read this? Nothing – nothing at all. I don't care about her. I don't KNOW her. I want to see specific things she's going through, the people she knows, etc.

Make it personal.

PM me for anything at all!

~JFW1415



i, too, use desk chairs for harm and harm alone
— Omni