Jump to: Imagine



by Alison O’Connor

When the trees give way, the opening of the town is littered with pine-shavings. The exposed gravel marking the end of the road is dry and appears shriveled. There is a sturdy wooden sign at the right side of the road’s end that offers a straightforward welcome in its charcoal cursive lettering, the bottom of which is adorned with a single faded evergreen design. However, there are no trees in sight. The ground, from this point forth, becomes thin and smooth asphalt, and cracked strips of sidewalk lining the rows of houses and the clustered buildings directly in the center of the town. The rest of the ground beyond the pavement and walkways is vast, sprawling grass peppered with dandelions and clovers, though these always look dehydrated and aching, surrendering to the looming shadows of the homes. The population of Slaidtown is not advertised or written down anywhere, since it is usually around a thousand, depending on the years. Residents stopped counting a few decades back. 


And so another day

by Max Zable

And so another day, another brutally clubbed worker. This is what hell is I guess for common folk. On the outside of this stinking, rotting, repair shop is {are} shiny walks and fancy décor, drawing in ignorant folks to pay ungodly prices for just fuel change. This small town is a trap for unfortunate automobiles since this is the only automobile repair shop for miles. Once their cars come in, hell opens up for the workers.


Going out of school

by Victor

Here I go again, going out of school driving towards the car to drive towards the train station. I pay five dollars of parking everyday plus what the train charges, I get the orange line going down town and I get off on Washington and Wells to make a five-minute walk and be on time at my job. I like working there because time goes fast when work in that restaurant. I get out of there at midnight and I get the train back to the Pulaski train station to get the car, drive back home, take a shower and go to sleep to repeat the same routine the whole week.

Upon waking this morning

by Cynthia Vega

Upon waking this morning, I came to realize something sad. My life. Each day, excluding Sunday, I must go to my repetitive, horrific job. I work at this sweatshop making mainly shirts. The place looks more like an old gymnasium. It’s dark, dusty, {and} humid and has little to no ventilation. It has a strong smell of old cement basement mixed with a little iron.


As a little boy

by Jose Soto

As a little boy, all I ever wanted to do was make my parents proud of me, to prove to them and myself that I was worth something. When I decided not to attend college, I let them down, but more importantly I failed myself. Now, here I am working in the “All Natural Cheese Factory” day by day and believe me when I say, it is a complete nightmare.


Loudly, my phone alarm

by Jaliene Pineda

Loudly, my phone alarm rings at 5:00am. Too tired to get up. I just lay there. Accidentally I fall right back to sleep. Mother came home at 5:30am from her job as a cop. Before I could even open my eyes, she was obnoxiously yelling at me. I knew I deserved it though, so I didn't argue back.


Another day

by Jennifer Ortega

Here we go again. Another day of endless sexist jokes from the jerk I have to call a boss. I sigh as I open the back door to the toy factory I work at. I’m greeted by the strong smell of paint and loud banging of machines. I greet the ladys {ladies} and head for the locker room to set my things up. As I place my purse and keys inside the locker, I see Richard, my boss, heading towards me with a huge grin on his face.


Where I started working

by Kathleen Martinez

The job where I started working in is an insanely huge and depressing factory I have {ever?} been in. This factory makes watches, clocks and al types of devices that give time. They have a specialty of still making co-co (cuckoo) clocks. These are the most challenging objects to do {make}. So far they made us work nonstop until our brake {break}, which we only have 15 minutes, but sometimes they would cut it short to make us work more hours.


When I woke up today

by Jacqueline De R

When I woke up today I just sighed. Everyone loves chocolate. It makes people happy. That’s why people give it to each other as gifts. I personally hate chocolate. Why? Not because it makes me break out, it tastes bitter, in fact, I too once loved it. But then I got to work at a chocolate factory. Not a oompa-loompa filled factory with a handsome, crazy manager. A hardcore, real-life, industry chocolate factory.


Here we go again

by J. Garcia

Here we go again. Another miserable day at this factory. Seriously, I’m fed up with this, I really am. I’m trying to look for another job but they all shut me down. I’m stepping outside of my car and I think to myself, “Why? Why again? Another miserable day,” but I was thinking or should I say thought to myself, “Another day, another dollar.”


Working in a factory

by Elyssa Barrera

Working in a factory making beanies isn’t as easy as it may seem. I actually hate my job. It’s boring, all we do is sew the same type of ugly patterns. I honestly don’t know why people even buy our beanies. The factory we work in is disgusting. There is {are} rat droppings, a very strong mell of body odor (it’s so hot everyone is sweating bullets!). The rules are pretty stupid, we can’t really talk to each other, we’re all very quiet. Because of our overweight boss that is stricter and meaner than the devil. He puts everyone down. Mr. Grim was his name, my Lord was he creepy. He is the meanest man ever. I don’t even know why got the job.

The way life is

by Andres Balladares

The way life is, having a job isn’t so fun. Making toys was a job I was looking forward to actually doing especially to go in “Toys R Us” everyday to see new toys coming in. The thought of seeing all these new things had my mind go crazy for an opportunity at Toys R Us. Yet, today isn’t a normal day at all. All my excitement went to the drain when I got a call to go in at five in the morning to package toys. I drove in through the back parking lot and I arrived.