The Old Factory stood there, grim and foreboding, at the end of a darkened street on Proctor Ave. The windows were boarded up with planks that reeked with many ages passed. The doors, even the main entrance, were locked from front to back to keep something or someone from coming out. This, if you haven’t guessed, was the old McKribble Factory. A place forgotten for good reasons, for this is the story about a man. A man whose wicked deeds have taken not just his fortune but his own life as well... ***** Many years ago, before little folks like you were born, people usually relied on sewing, weaving, and other small things to make a living. At that time, it didn’t matter how wealthy or poor you were or how much hard work you put into your job, it was the generosity and respectful treatment of other workers that mattered. However, even if this was true, most of the bosses, who owned some of the different factories in the area, were quite diverse on the matter. They didn’t even care if a man had accidentally cut his arm off or if a woman had not paid enough attention where she was sewing and suffered from having a piece of fabric stuck deeply into the top of her fleshy hands. As a result, most factory owners ignored the morals at hand. He cares about, not just himself but also his fortune as well. Jasper McKribble was one of these owners. He was tall and rather skinny, with skin so thick he could have been mistaken for a Fearsome Scarecrow. Or be the neglected scarecrow that nobody cared for. He was almost bald, with only tufts of white hair on the sides and back of his head. Every time he walked or moved, his hair wiggled from right to left, like snakes ready to pounce on its victim. He wore dark gray clothes that made him look like a funeral undertaker and shoes that seemed worn out to exhaustion. Jasper, as you might have guessed, was not honorable, and the moral “Money can’t not buy you happiness” fit him greatly. He was cold, grumpy, and unkind and only cared about himself. Everywhere he went, children ran away in fear of his temper, and women fainted at the very sight of him. Even the cats and dogs scurry home in fear of being beaten for being in his way. Everyone hated and feared him, and hoped that when he died, he would be buried in the darkest part of the town’s cemetery, with nails hammered deep in the coffin to keep him from coming out. The fact that folks greatly hated and feared him, was all the more reasonable, for he was the wealthiest business tycoon in all of New England! He had been raised in an old log cabin, by his reluctant uncle and aunt, who had taken him in since his parents had died. Considering that both his uncle and aunt weren’t as nice and caring as his parents, especially when they did not attend their funeral, seemed to prove that. They taught him that if the world could not give him what he wants when he wants it, it was his duty to punish them for it. “And if they still won’t obey or follow your path,” his aunt once said, “beat them even harder until they do.” So Jasper grew up not learning to be nice, kind, or generous like the townspeople but rather to be cold-hearted and cruel and punish those who didn’t meet his wants and needs. He beat his school teacher with her whipping stick if she didn’t agree with his answers. He punished the mailman by sicking his uncle’s dog on him if he didn’t get good news. He even punched the town’s mayor right in the eye. When the mayor didn’t notice the letter he had sent to him about replacing the town’s old park with a carnival to be held every day of the Year! By the time he was 20, he applied this cruel behavior when he started working at the town’s factory. The year by then was 1842, a rare time when folks didn’t have enough time to live when at work, so to speak. Men and women were set to work day in and night out to satisfy their bosses and their jobs. It didn’t matter if they were treated properly or not, for as usual, it was better to have a pile of money earned by the wealthy than have an injured body for the poor, topped with a forgotten picnic with the worms. Now, Jasper didn’t rely on the strong, healthy, or the elderly for his dirty jobs. They were too eager to quit soon afterward. So he decided to rely on the only source of workers that many factories seemed to have back in those days, children. It wasn’t just the oldest and eldest that he gleefully took very little pity on, it was the young and the weak who were forced to spend their days weaving and sewing until their bones ached with pain. These children ranged from brothers, sisters, orphans, and even a few slaves having been taken from beloved mamas and papas to work in a grimy old factory. Even the bedrooms of many of the orphans were disgusting, looking more like prison cells. Indeed, even when the jobs came and went, it was all but misery after misery, as many children suffered greatly. Not only because of Jasper’s cruelty but also because of accidents. If a boy or girl was to be working a sewing loom machine, and suppose that one of them dropped something in the machinery, they had no choice but to dig their tiny fragile hands into it. The results would either be injured or greatly disfigured, or even become “A Worm’s Supper” as they called it. No matter how much the children pleaded with their boss about the mistreatment, Jasper would only glare at them and say “If I wasn’t here to care for and help you with your weak and pathetic lives you would be dead from the start, I would suggest you keep your foolish mouths shut tight or else!” And so this went on for years, Jasper becoming more and more devilish and cruel, watching the poor child laborers suffer while he had his pockets filled with blood money, as they say. Then, during the Autumn of 1882, “The Riots” broke out.... The children and teenagers, having been pushed too far after a weaving machine accident caused a young girl’s head to be separated from her body, had finally had enough of Jasper's cold-hearted ways. They concluded that they needed to put a stop to him. The Boy who led the charge was a young boy of 17 named Joshua Baker. He was a strong boy despite his skinny size and had a little sister named Emily, who was no more than 7 years old. Joshua had seen Jasper’s cruel actions many times, even before he and his sister were orphaned. He eventually convinced all the children that the only way out of Jasper’s sinister grasp was going on strike, even if they died trying. During all that autumn, while some children worked miserably at Jasper’s factory, Joshua and most of the young workers started the biggest strike ever seen in New England. It started with a few childish pranks that appealed to their intentions: rude paintings on the walls, smashing windows, and setting fires to burn their old sewing and weaving supplies. Eventually, they set their exceptions higher, they destroyed their bedrooms, boycotted some of the disgusting food they were forced to eat, and even wrecked many of Jasper’s possessions from his home. As the children’s riots brought Jasper’s company to its knees, his fury and insanity was more than he could bear. This led him to call in many strong union workers, many of whom were just as bad as he was. On the 8th day of the strike, Jasper had gathered many of his men to protect the factory at all costs. When the children did appear at the front of the old gate, ranting, shouting, and carrying pitchforks, sticks, and even a few guns, they, unfortunately, were not prepared for the emotional horrors that awaited them… It started when the children broke through the gates and charged towards the union workers, but even then it was far too late for a retreat. One loud gunshot later and a girl was shot right in the heart. Then during a fight with a tough man named Billy, a boy was knocked unconscious and beaten to death with an iron shovel. The more the children tried to fight back, the more reinforcements came on stronger. By precisely 12:30 pm, every child was either greatly injured and had retreaded or just left dead on the spot. Joshua, who led the fight for justice, now lay there with his little sister, lifelessly in his hands. Tears streamed down his face as he looked down at her saddened eyes. The blood was streaming on the back of her dress and down on the dark pavement. All that he had done and all that he wanted, now was no longer possible. He didn’t even notice that Jasper had slowly walked up behind him, with a pistol in his hand, impatiently waiting for him to speak up. “You killed her.” Joshua said with defeat, “You could have spared her, and yet you killed her.” “Killed her?” said Jasper, a confused yet crazed look on his face, “You mean I, the only man who would willingly help her despite her naughty behavior, would attempt to kill her?” “You know damn right!” Joshua snapped suddenly, “That’s all you ever care about, isn’t it? Money and suffering. You only care about yourself and your reputation. You're a bad, heartless human being and I still won’t stand for this!” “What for?!” Jasper snapped back, “All I ever do is treat you how I want to be treated. I give you shelter and food. I know it’s not perfect, but even I have to be more strict when caring for you brats!” Joshua yelled back, “Then you should have thought of that before treating us like dirt, if you had been a better person and not listened to that old hag of an aunt of yours, none of this would have happened! None of it! If God could only see us now, I would pray we didn’t give up our right to freedom and justice! We can still make a difference against people like you, either dead or alive!” There was a moment of silence before Jasper spoke… “Well, if that’s what you want,” He said coldly. “So be it then!” He pointed his pistol, and one loud shot later, Joshua was now with his sister. ***** The news that a union strike of children ended in bloodshed spread throughout the country. Most folks, especially those in New England were alarmed and shocked about the incident more so than the rest of the country, Some of the factory owners and businessmen, however, dismissed the entire strike as a mere accident and were rather satisfied that the uproar came to an end because it would create terrible controversies and bankruptcy for their companies. Oh, if that were true… Nevertheless, many funerals for the poor unfortunate children were held, despite there being few tears to be shed from those who didn’t care for them. Jasper McKribble continued employment at his factory. He didn’t even care to send thoughts and prayers for the tragic murders of his young workers. Instead, he only thought of how proud his deceased aunt would be for his deeds or his continually growing wealth. Soon after, Jasper became his old rotten self again. No matter that a large group of small, sickly, and worthless brats had died for a silly clause. He didn't feel an injustice towards him. Although, even as he thought of these wonderfully horrible things, he didn’t notice or think of the nasty surprise that was coming for him. One cold autumn night, the wind blew strongly against the old iron gates of the McKribble Factory. The moon shone white on the ground below, and the bushes quivered as if someone or something were coming through them. Jasper was upstairs in his office, counting his money and thinking about the punishments he should give to his child workers tomorrow. It had been one year after the strikes had played out, and even his cold heart, his thoughts would wander to that day. The words of Joshua Baker seemed to be further and further away than originally heard. “You're a bad, heartless human being, and I still won't stand for this!” “Stuff and nonsense,” Jasper muttered to himself. Just then, a loud clank of metal was heard. He looked up and around, but there was nothing out of place. It seemed like the noise was coming from the machinery floor room. Jasper got up from his office chair, lit a candle with a match, and walked to the door. He opened it and peeked out. it was dark in the room, and the windows shone through, illuminating most of the room but not all of it. “Who goes there?” he called out. No answer. Jasper was not convinced it was the wind, so he started slowly down the metal staircase. Maybe it was another childish prank by one of his pathetic workers. Maybe they were planning another riot, but that didn’t seem right at all, at least to him. He went over to where he thought the noise had come from and found one of the racks with the sewing materials was knocked over, pins and needles and yarn lying there on the ground, sharp and sparkling in the moon’s light. Now, what had destroyed his workstation would pay! Jasper was sure of it, When he found them, he would beat them to a pulp. Suddenly, he felt something rush behind him. he spun around but there was nothing in front of him. Then he heard something sneezing, it was quiet but enough for him to hear, he slowly turned around and saw a pair of small muddy footprints on the solid ground. Jasper looked up in the direction of the light, and there lying in the corner of the room, was what looked like a young girl, no more than 7, rocking on the floor in the corner. She didn’t seem to notice him as he looked at her and he thought the dress she was wearing looked familiar, pink and dirty. Jasper slowly approached her, stopped, and said “What are you doing here?” No answer. “Who are you?” Jasper asked again. Still no answer. Jasper didn’t like this quiet girl not answering him, so he started to speak louder, “Don’t look at me like that. Get up and talk to me now or-” His blood suddenly froze, for the girl’s head suddenly fell off, and rolled on the ground in front of him. It had long orange hair and red bows tied in knots. He recognized her face. It was Abigail! The girl whose head had been chopped off by his machinery! Jasper’s face filled with horror as he suddenly noticed her body getting up and walking towards him, clambering on her two feet uncontrollably. He stumbled back and tried to run away, but suddenly came face to face with a young man in dirty clothes with blue rotting skin. It was Josuha, his aged face not changed and the back of his head bleeding from the gunshot! Jasper thought his heart had skipped a beat. “No!” He cried out, “This is impossible! You are supposed to be dead!” “Yes, we all are,” Joshua said. Jasper looked behind Joshua, and he was horrified at what he saw next. Coming out of the shadows and into the window’s lights were the dead children from many decades before that Jasper had not seen in years that he had treated poorly and unfairly. Now they were all there, missing arms and hands amongst other body parts. Many were wailing in agony and limping from the whips he used on them. Jasper grimaced while looking at their rotting flesh that had once been full of life! “For many years,” Joshua said, “I’ve seen people like you mistreat others all over the country, making and spreading misery to all you follow. Even my own Pa and Mama had to suffer at your hands. Yet you still choose not to be kind and generous when treating others like us, as your playthings to be torn apart by you.” “I’m sorry for all that. I am,” Jasper finally snapped. “I promise to make things better for you and not treat children like trash evermore!” Joshua didn’t seem convinced at all. “You were given fair warning for your crimes, but that still doesn’t change the fact you committed your sins beforehand. Now we all have to move on to the heavens, while you will be punished. You will be used as a warning to those who follow your path!” Joshua exclaimed. Jasper couldn't believe his eyes, but before he could plead anymore, he was quickly grabbed and carried off by two of the whaling ghosts. Joshua followed after him, with his little sister appearing next to him. They carried the old man groaning and moaning until they brought him to the large looming machine in the room, where the yarn is made. They tied him up in yarn and laid him on the conveyor belt. “Listen you fools,” Jasper pleaded, “I'll pay your Mamas and Papas with all the money I have. Then, we can be better off and happier than before.” “No,” Joshua said “This is for your good because as the old saying goes, especially for misers like you, you will reap what you sow.” Joshua pulled the lever to start the machine up, and sure enough, before Jasper could even think of where he was going, there was a massive crunching sound. A weaving of intestines and other body parts as the one body of Jasper McKribble now was sowing to death. ***** The following morning, when the young workers went to the old factory as usual, Jasper was not to be found. They looked high and low for him but couldn’t find their boss anywhere, but they did find a pair of soft yet very slimy rolls of yarn. Even when they did tell their families about it, they just thought it was made by Jasper himself as an early Christmas gift. The police were eventually called upon and investigated the place from top to bottom but found little evidence of a crime or death. Even then, as the mystery was eventually forgotten and the factory was eventually closed down for good, the children, parents, and even some of the town folks believed that Jasper was spirited away by his own misguided and cruel ways. Nowadays, if you were to visit the old McKribble Factory in the evening or at the darkest of nights, it is rumored that you can still hear the moaning and groaning spirit of Jasper. He is still trying to apologize for his terrible deeds, but never stopping, because of his crime and sins, he is doomed to remain in that factory for all of time. That is why Jasper’s story will always serve as a cautionary lesson for anyone. No one, not even the businessmen, treats their workers like garbage now. Not even if you choose to reap what you have sown.