9/11 Short Stories

My mom drove me to school, filling the car with an awkward and unbearable silence. The only noise was her thumb tapping the steering wheel and the annoying clicking of the signals. Since I am on punishment, I'm not allowed to have the luxury of Megan driving me. To make this car ride a little bit less awkward, I turned on the radio and blasted up the volume to the highest notch.

There was a bright flash of light, a vague pulling sensation at my core, and then I was standing in the middle of a magic circle. The circle was drawn in dark purple chalk, had a thin white candle at each of the five points, outlined in a sickly yellow glow, and once again, I was standing in the middle of it.

"It's not worth the trouble." Letting go his vest, 'Reiner' started to follow his other friend. "Come on Berthodt."

“Uhhhh...” is all I could manage to articulate as my mind is quickly turns to mush from his hands explorations.

I wasn’t ready for that. BAM! It hits us again, this time more forcefully, like it is trying to hit us. BAM! It is absolutely trying to hit us. BAM, BAM, BAM, SCREECH, I hear the tires of the large truck stop against the black pavement.

Drip, drip, drop. The appearance of the rain drops hitting the water of the pool reminds me of stones being throw in the water, and how they created those perfect circles that would expand until they faded away. Though the stones made the water react, it was still the same water; it went back to being flat. Do you suppose that we take these simple visuals, and make them into something more meaningful than what it really is? It really is just simple nature, yet we put more beauty and symbolism into. At least, that was how I see the world now that my mind no longer sees tricks as magic.

There was a mysterious tapping at the window, and a sudden silence fell over the four people sitting by the fireplace. It was as if a cold chill had invaded the warmly lit room to remind them of the threatening storm and dark outside. The two brothers and their wives had been talking of Alan Drake, although they did not speak of him often, for they had little enough to say. He had simply walked away two years ago, leaving a cryptic note:

“You don’t understand, Hitler is coming here, and I need to tell the others.” She gushingly reveals dashing promptly across the street, darting into a hallway as the searching spotlight narrowly misses her.

When I pressed the yellow, diamond-shaped gem to the crème-colored Crowning Cloth on the table, Law Nine resounded in my head - Twelvers do not deface or alter their bodies.

“MUM! Wait!” I yell. My throat is sore, partly from the yelling, but mostly from the running. The thick, night fog blocked my vision of the path ahead completely, only allowing the occasional glow of the street lamps barely come in sight. I don't remember why I’m running or where I’m headed exactly, just that something is going to happen. Something bad; but what? I trust my instincts to guide me through the maze of eerily empty streets and parked cars. I thought I’d seen something move in the corner of my eye, that’s when I hear the deafening explosion to my right. I cower beneath my arms, ready to anticipate the blazing heat of the supposed flames. I don’t feel anything. I realize why. Towering above me, a pair of worried eyes cautiously

Her body always feels cold, always feels fragile. That’s why someone else’s touch always feels so foreign to her.

The man laughed, “Well, I see you’re always so curious…” The man’s lips moved again to say something.

“Oh, fuck, Rose. I don’t know.” She starts pacing, her head falling into her hands. “I want to run away. How much easier would that be?”

“Let’s get going. There is a short hike before we get to the base of the mountain.”

"You know it doesn 't bother me," she said. "It 's that I 've gotten so very nervous not being able to do anything. I think we might make it as easy as we can until the plane comes."