9/11 Short Stories

Obtrusively,the thunder bellowed outside and the roaring sound filled the small room like rock music to a broken soul.Amongst the thunder, raindrops could be seen ebbing down the windowsill forming undecipherable miniscule shapes and later sinking down in the wall to gather at the edge.

Just as they were making their way toward the shack out comes the witch. They carefully make their way up to her and not taking their eyes off of her. Not only was she a witch but a beautiful one, like no one they had ever seen. She

I shit on it.” But the reality was that deep down she was lying to herself. Nevertheless, she missed all of that -- the smells of lamb pörkölt (stewed and flavored with paprika) and stuffed cabbage. And just to have one more taste of sweetened porridge and rice, or those butter-creamed flaky tortes that had once graced her lips, at weddings. She certainly had never learned to cook well enough to prepare those things, with her mother passing away before teaching Ava to cook. There hadn’t been time to learn what village women taught their daughters. Not when her mother had been wracked with pain and worry.

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

“But that still doesn’t answer my question as to how you knew that wasn’t my mother?” said Jack. “She was there, at my door, in plain sight!”

I couldn’t breath. Dust was everywhere. Our little town of Lakewood in Oklahoma, has vanished. Cars were now piles of dust on the road. Crops were now dry and nowhere to be seen. My eyes burned and itched. Our house was once a home, but now it looked dark. Dark and scary. It was not as white as it used to be. It always looked happy and felt like a home. But now our house, didn’t feel or look like a home. The walls were cracked and the windows were full of dust. The floors were scratched and clawed. Our beds and blankets are not safe places anymore. The food that we consume, tastes raw, bitter, and has no flavor. We’re eating and swallowing dust everyday. Pa has tired marks on his face. Ma doesn’t cook us our favorite meals anymore. Rose and

James stood completely still, in shock at the sight of the forest. He turned to look at the girl standing next to him.

His jaw had been slack since he'd fist showed up outside Rowan's window. He'd been talking about things that Rowan didn't understand, things he probably didn't either. Jack had a soft look on his face, one that didn't suit him. He still couldn't manage to look peaceful.

The little girl sat in the hospital bed crying as her doctor left, leaving the door open. She couldn't believe the news, her dreams; ruined. She wouldn't graduate college, she wouldn't get married and have kids, she wouldn't even get to see her little brother do the same thing. Oh, her brother, her little brother is going to be devastated when he hears the news!

I had just exited the barber shop when my dad was waiting for me inside his van. I agreed to help my aunt move her household items into boxes in preparation for her new home. I agreed to help because not only was I close to my aunt; I also get to see my cousin, Joseph. I had kept my thoughts about him throughout the car ride until we finally arrived at my aunt’s house. As usual, she ran outside to welcome me and my dad warmly while Joseph stood on the doorway watching us from the shadows. When I walked up to him to say my greetings, he did the same but he wasn’t as enthusiastic as the three of us. With that, my Dad worked alongside our aunt while I was paired with my cousin who was in charge of carrying living room furniture out of the house.

Waking up with the feeling of fear, contempt and uselessness. Looking out the window watching kids on the streets riding their bikes full of laughter and joy. I walk downstairs and see my husband making me breakfast and asks me to sit down. I pick up my fork and force myself to at least try to eat something. My stomach was grumbling, no doubt I was hungry but I was too nervous to the point that I couldn’t hold anything down.

Ingrid had a slight guess at what some of her father's men were doing there, but she walked ahead through the path they had made with Dorian. "Josephine?" She called out, thinking that if anyone knew what was going on it would be her.

When she walked into the small room, she saw the queen sized bed with the old quilted cover with its navy and white blocks. She also recognized all the old pictures of her family hanging in a row next to the chest of drawers that was stained brown.

The twenty-six-year-old rose, making her way through the hand made wooden home. Everything in their land was made by their own hands. Sure, there had been some advances with plumbing but it remained a tradition and a privilege to make their own homes. It was as if someone could feel the love each family had put into making their home. “We still have several hours.” Amelia noted as she leaned on the wooden door frame, her gaze swooping over the warmly lit bedroom. In the left hand side of the room her dress hung on a stump that was supported by a metal rod that spanned out toward the floor.

A single under-cabinet light in the kitchen provided all of the light in this part of the house. It was a small but orderly place - the area around the front door was lower and still slightly damp from when she had come in. It entered directly into a modest carpeted living area, with carpet and couches on the right, and a kind of lounge on the left, separated from the kitchen further back by a counter. A path in the middle lead further towards a narrow hallway, with doors on the left and right, the latter of which was to the room she had used. There was nothing on the walls besides heavy blue curtains which hung almost floor to ceiling. The chair she currently occupied was soft, clearly not new but clean and in good repair.