The cemetery lay shrouded in a veil of mist: a haunting tableau of shadows and whispers. Amidst this scene stood a figure, her stature bent with age, draped in garments that fluttered softly in the wind. Her eyes, hollowed on her face etched with untold sorrows, gazed at the weather-worn tombstone in front of her. It bore a faded inscription: 

Grace Fryer, 14 March 1899 – 27 October 1933

Out of her shawl, Mae Keane’s trembling hands, furrowed by the vicissitudes of life, drew out a yellowed little book— a diary. Setting it down on the grave, a bitter wind ruffled the faded pages, revealing blotches of green substances that dotted the ancient paper. Under the feeble light of the moon, the smudges seemed to emit an eerie glow.

***

TICK TOCK

April 16, 1917

Dear diary, 

My first week here has been a wonder. I can paint up to 200 watches a day and my employer, Dr. Hawthorne, is highly impressed by my work. And the paint glows ever so delightfully! Its light dances around our dimly-lit studio, casting an ethereal glow, just like magic. It is not just a substance to me, but rather a siren’s song, enticing me and drawing me closer to its irresistible charm. 

“Do mine, Amelia, do mine!”

“And mine!”

“All right, Mae, All right, Grace. One at a time! Turn your face.”

As they experimented with the paint, the brushes skimming along their clothes, their skin, and even their hair, the girls’ laughter rang like bells, reverberating against the indifferent, sterile walls of the factory.

The paint instilled a sense of wonder in them, illuminating their once mundane lives. 

I sort of find a sense of meaning through my work here. I cannot believe my good fortune to have found such an occupation that earns easy and pays much. It almost seems too good to be true. 

TICK TOCK

May 12, 1917

Dear diary, 

Dr. Hawthorne tells us we have to suck the tips of our paintbrushes.

“Girls, notice how your paintbrushes get frayed after a few strokes? Put ‘em into your mouths and sharpen ‘em with your lips and tongue.”

The girls watched each other with apprehension, whispering among themselves. 

“What’s the matter? Radium ain’t poisonous. It’s been proven by scientists. In fact, it’s healthy for you. Gives your skin a nice radiant glow.”

Dr. Hawthorne watched as the girls tentatively met their soft, rosy lips to the brushes, tinting them with the ghostly green paint.

“That’s the spirit! Keep up the good work, girls! Remember, lip, dip, paint.” 

Radium is safe. Everyone knows that, right?

TICK TOCK

“Amelia!”

December 9, 1918

Amelia died today.

The girls clustered around her; she was bent double with her eyes bulging in terror and disbelief as she clutched her mouth with quivering hands. 

“Are you okay?”

Another girl stepped forward. A dozen pairs of eyes watched, curious, as she removed Amelia’s hand and tried to examine her mouth. Amid gasps and screams, the curiousness in their eyes morphed into pure terror. 

Her entire lower jaw fell off with the most delicate prod. I will never forget that macabre sight. Oh lord, what on earth is happening?

“How could this have happened?”

“Sir, the girls are quitting. They are starting to suspect that radium is causing them harm.”

“Nonsense. The paint is undoubtedly safe; the scientists have told me that. We cannot let this tarnish our company’s reputation. Alter the medical records and deny any responsibility.”

“Yes, sir.”

TICK TOCK

January 13, 1919

Dear diary, 

I haven’t been myself lately. All day long I’m now shrouded in a haze of worry. 

The light never seems to dwindle; at night, I lie in bed and gaze at my luminous possessions. They glare back at me, penetrating my eyelids and infusing my mind with the eerie glow. It is a haunting beauty which I cannot fathom.

Maybe I’m just thinking too much…

TICK TOCK

May 28, 1918

There is an inexplicable ache in my teeth that refuses to dissipate. It is as if something is constantly gnawing away at my body, engulfing me. 

“What on earth is wrong with me, doctor? 

“Well, dear, to be frank, you’re completely healthy. As lively as a child and absolutely nothing wrong with you.”

“That can’t be true…”

The doctor shrugged. It was as if he truly believed the fiction he was told to promote.

I don’t believe I’m healthy. 

TICK TOCK

July 9, 1918

I had a horrible nightmare. 

The girls who died, their visages twisted into silent screams, their bodies contorted and gleaming with an unnatural light — they were back at work. One by one they dipped their brushes into the deadly paint and brought them to their mouths, licking them with insatiable hunger. One by one they fell, their bones crumbling and disintegrating. 

Oh I tried to stop them! I swear! Poor Amelia! Poor Ella! Poor Sarah!

I cannot bear this much longer…

TICK TOCK

January 15, 1920

I’m leaving. 

“Mae, please, this paint is deadly. Radium is deadly. That’s why our friends died.”

“Be sensible, Grace. Calm down. Radium. Is. Safe.”

“No! You don’t understand! I’m begging you all, stop putting it in your mouths!”

“I—” Mae faltered, hesitancy and fear lingering in her eyes that had long lost its liveliness, “I don’t know… I don’t want to lose my job over this.”

“Please…”

Why won’t they listen? Why?

I’m scared. I’m never going back there.

TICK TOCK

March 18, 1925

I have decided to fight for justice, not for my own sake but for the rights of hundreds and thousands of women suffocating under the manipulative grasps of deceitful corporations. I am fighting for their future. 

Four young women have stepped forward to join me in this losing battle: Quinta McDonald, Albina Larice, Edna Hussman, and Katherine Schaub. Together, we will be the Radium Girls. 

TICK TOCK

May 24, 1927

Life is short and our remaining time to live is crumbling. We have just found an attorney, the only attorney, willing to assist us in this lawsuit. 

We must hurry. The clock is ticking. 

TICK TOCK

April 1, 1928

“The Supreme Court states that due to a violation of the Statute of Limitations proposed by the US Radium Company, the case is adjourned.”

We were deceived, exploited, and abandoned like rag dolls. Now they are toying with us, dragging time out and dangling it tauntingly in front of our pathetic noses. They have years, but we don’t. 

The voices of my friends and family continually bang on in my battered mind— you don't have a chance of winning, they say. Over and over and over again.

I’m doing this, no matter what. 

TICK TOCK

April 25, 1928

I’ve lost almost everything— my teeth, my youth, my life, but determination still remains in me. 

TICK TOCK

October 27, 1933

Dear diary, 

I know I won’t make it in time. 

They’re trying to silence us, but we won’t submit. Every single one of us will keep fighting on our sickbeds until justice finds our feeble voice. We will not stop until U.S. Radium falls. We will win.

Grace’s words trail off as the pen falls from her limp hand for the last time. 

***

Mae closes the diary, melancholy and laden with heavy memories of the past. She was among the many girls who were convinced by Grace to leave the Radium Dial Company. Sadly, Grace didn’t live long enough to see her lawsuit win. Yet her actions impacted the world, acting as a beacon illuminating a path for safer workplaces for generations to come. Grace’s bones still glow in her grave— a validation of her ordeals.

She is our legacy of light.