9/11 Short Stories

Out of the darkness, rivers of brilliant light and color began to flow all around her, as if a dam holding back a rainbow had miraculously burst. Then she heard the music... a melody so beautiful it tugged at her very soul. It was as if the euphony clothed her in an impenetrable blanket. She felt warm. She felt safe. Uncontrollably, tears welled up, the hymn gripping her heart, and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut and instinctively her body curled into a protective ball.

I walked to it and tried prying it from the ground with my fingers. A twig broke behind me and I jumped and spun around. It was dark now and the only light was from the full moon. I had a bad feeling start to pump through me. I turned and ran trying to evacuate the danger I felt nearby. I ran through brush that looked like claws trying to grab my ankles. And as tree limbs came down snatching at my skin I tripped and fell. I saw a tree nearby that looked welcoming and I tried to use it as cover. Black wings busted through the trees and run started echoing around me in a croaked out a raspy breath.

I woke up to the Loud shots of gun fire not knowing where I was or how I got here. I quickly (scrambled) to my feet with hundreds of thoughts racing through my mind. When I stepped outside I quickly realized that I was in a nightmare that I could not get out of. I overheard the officers say we were in soldau, i grew up in the area with my mom, dad, grandpa and three older brothers. I walked around looking for someone I knew, anyone. The only way I could come out of this camp alive is to have and ally to ration food and water with. I quickly and (swiftly) scanned the faces of the (miserable) prisoners for someone i knew. One person looked particularly familiar but i could not put my finger on who it was, so i walked up to him and said ‘’hello’’ and before i could say anything more the man hugged me so tight i could barely breath. Still not knowing who this man was i hugged him back as if i had never felt

It was sad to see it in this state of disrepair, and she hoped to remedy that soon.

“Why am I here? What happened to me? Who am I?” Everything was happening so fast, It felt like i couldn't breathe. I began to cry.

He rushed over to her to make sure she was okay. Kate just nodded, a bit groggy from the events that took place just several of hours earlier. Once fully awake, Kate began blurting out questions like an auctioneer.

William felt sick as he scrambled off his seat and frantically searched the area for cover. He could clearly hear the thumps of dead bodies hitting the deck, just as he could hear the drip drip drip of Michel’s blood as it hit the floor. In the corner of his eye, he could see the powder monkey trampled on the floor. There was no honor for the dead in the midst of a battle. He needed a hiding spot., something, anything! If he could just find a place to hide and wait out the battle…

It was October 31st, 1999, one windy, cold, and dark Halloween night. Three friends, McKenzie, Baylee, and Vanessa decided they wanted to stay home alone while Baylee’s parents were at work. She told everyone she lived in a “hell house” all her life because there was constantly something going on. Doors flying open, voices, footsteps. Nothing ever stayed where they had put it. Her parents worked all the time and she was constantly terrified. On Halloween it tended to get worse but no one had ever believed her.

My head spun around in confusion. What did he mean by deceiver if I let a celebrity get killed the media is going to have my ass! What do I do!

“What is wrong with you?” Ellie exclaims out loud. She doesn’t care when the few people she passes turn to stare at her. “He is just a man, granted, a remarkably hot, good looking one. However, that is no excuse for you behaving like a love struck teenager.” Sighing Ellie scans the street for the restaurant Becky recommended. There, just down the street, Sarah’s Cozy Café, she starts walking quickly towards it.

There was a blanket of darkness in the room; as if someone had woven the sky into a dark cloth and spread it over the room. It was cold. Colder than the frostbite slowly inching up Robert Peary’s leg. An icy blue flame was flickering above the wick of a well-used candle. The misty shade of purple from the curtains filled the room with a bleak atmosphere. On top of a wooden drinks cabinet sat a wireless whispering in the background of the room.

The headmistress regarded the pair of adults and trio of children in front of her. The blonde woman looked resigned and the man in tweed fidgeted with his bow tie. He was on the edge of his seat, as if he were ready to bolt any minute. The elder child, a brunette, had her arms crossed over her chest and a defiant look upon her face. Her younger brothers, identical twins who resembled their mother in almost every way, at least had the sense to look ashamed of themselves.

Another crash reverberates from the other room. It’s loud enough to hear of the sound of the music blasting out from his earphones, and Jimin flinches yet again. With a sight he cranks up the volume on his cheap MP3 player, and tries to curl up a little more, tucking his knees closer to his chest while praying that the sounds will soon cease.

Harry directly experienced traumatic events. He was a victim of combat, torture and attempted murders.

This is a critical part of the argument that shows the beginning of Harry’s obsession with blaming himself for deaths while attempting to distance himself from the actions that caused them. While technological and psychological aspects addressed by Denzin and Albrechtslund are relevant to studying Harry’s character, their arguments for why he goes crazy are incomplete, each lacking the other. Denzin over simplifies the cause by focusing too narrowly on the effects of technology and both critics ignore the importance of Harry’s past. Combining these arguments as well as analyzing critical elements of Harry’s past will give us a better understanding of Harry. I will discuss Harry’s dream, the conversation at the office party, and the effect of the Director’s death on Harry’s mental state to gain a more complete study of Harry’s character and why he goes