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Megan Martin – 5W Thursday 7th July 2011 Description of the workhouse in the 1840’s I rapidly thundered to work. I couldn’t be late for work again. I was cautious in caseI was whipped or maybe even fined. I quickly swooped down the steel stairs and into the factory as fast as lightning. The moment I heard the doors clash and lock that was final; I knew that I would be spending the next twelve hours of my day in this dreadful, horrific workhouse. As soon as I arrived, I edged as briskly and cautiously as I could over to my machine. I could hear the unsafe, dusty floorboards creak with every step I took. I had only been in this depressing prison for approximately five minutes and I could already feel the boiling heat drifting slowly towards me. The heat was as hot as the blazing sun. Without a second thought I quietly opened a window. Suddenly, negative thoughts began to flood my body. What had I just done? What if I’m whipped or fired? Just then, I heard footsteps becoming clearer every second. I jerked my head around so quick I thought that my head would fly straight off my neck. Guesswho was coming towards me? ... the Overseer. The Overseer looked strict and wore a jet black top hat to show he meant business. The Overseer was pointing to the wooden, unsteady workbench. I trotted apprehensively over to the whipping bench. I began to smell the vile sick as I started to crouch down on the bench. Almost at once, I felt a sickening lash across my back. Salt laden tears began trickling frantically down my cheeks and then spurting out onto the floor. The shocking lash felt as if my back was on fire. As the afternoon approached, a young, tender child appeared from under a machine collecting the cotton waste. The next thing I saw was his delicate body collapse on the floor like jelly. I quickly realised that he had fainted. I swiftly sprinted over but it was too late. As I arrived at the scene, there were already several people crowding around him shouting and screaming for help. After a while, once everybody had calmed down we all heard a blood curdling scream. I turned around as fast as a cheetah and realised that it was my friend


Amelia. She had had an incident with her machine. Tragically, her hand had been chopped off and blood was squirting down the aisle of other workers. Luckily, the Overseer couldn’t fine or whip her becauseit wasn’t her fault. Soon after, the horrifying Overseer began shrieking at a dehydrated couple begging for a drink. They continued asking repeatedly as he pointed to the blood- stained workbench which had several nails as sharp as razors peeking out of the sides. The pair received ten lashes each. Eventually, it was the end of the day, as soon as the doors opened everybody scrambled out of the door like a vast stampede of elephants. I was over the moon that another devastating day had been and gone but I’d be back again tomorrow.


Year 5W's writing about the Victorian era