Death at the Clockwork FactoryBy: Nicholas L. LaFave

The cacophony of grinding gears and sweat shop children filled the air of Victorian England, the great clockwork steam engine that is supposed to help everyone was the focal point of our tireless and deadly endeavor, I have personally seen the countless measure of my own friend’s fall into the great clockwork gears, I personally seen my brother fall into fall into this forsaken clockwork engine, the reason he fell was of my own, I was the one who was blunderous enough to fall into him, I screamed as his bones ground under the powerful brass cogs, I cried as his

body fell onto the ashen graupel that had blown in from the frigid English climate, I was the one the boss had clean up the bloodied ragged mess that crowed main entry to the factory, Fury built within my intellect as I quietly spat acrimonies and curses, I swept the floor of the limp and mutilated body from under the clockwork engine, with each passing thought of sorrow a malevolent cogitation closely accompanied, the calculated procedure of the bosses demise,With each passing day I calculated the movements of the boss, watching with dark beady eyes, every day I pushed through each tireless task, one after another, just like clockwork,

I had finally devised the perfect plan, I watched the clock steadily as I cleaned the floors of grease and whale oil, and with each passing moment encased rage filled my soul only to make time tick slower, I couldn’t wait, I couldn’t hold it in, I have to act now, with each step ending with the tick of the engine gears slowly roundabouting I made my way to the bosses’ side, the bosses face enraged in fury at the sight of a pawn away from its position, I gave a charge of mass pushing the meaty boss into the grinding clockwork engine,Everyone froze in shock, each heartbeat thumped with the sound of grinding bone and flesh, I looked about seeing each ashen face looking

back at my own and the group of Mutton-Shutters entering to put me to the gallows.