The voice in my head shrieks, “Do it!” but my body is petrified. I look back at the engulfed workshop as smoke encases me like a tomb. Scorching fingers of fire slither closer to my blistering skin. My body is broiling.
A distant voice yells, “Jump!”
I look out onto the street below and leap from the 10th floor window, my clothes ablaze and melting against my skin. The world rushes by in a single blink. The scream I hear is not my own, but that of the other 145 souls that perish with me in the fire.
This story was written for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. For those of you who don’t know about the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire in New York City, you can read about it here. It was one of the worst industrial disasters in New York City history, taking 146 lives.