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.

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.

Meanwhile, Hulga lay in the loft of the barn, and due to the lack of vision correction, she struggled to discern the amount of fingers she was raising an arm's length away. Her optical deficiency was beginning to give her a throbbing pain just behind her eyes. The paralyzing ache gave rise to such agony that Hulga had no choice but to shut her eyes and get some rest.

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.

The wind twirled around the columns, engulfing the girl standing in the center. Her hands raised as she looked to the open ceiling. She swayed with the wind, letting it push her and guide her.

I walk downstairs in light blue high waisted shorts and a white tank top with cowgirl boots.

Now far enough away from the night club opening, Jessie could hear the distinct sound of a woman screaming. The heart wrenching sound made her stop mid step. Cold terror washed over her as she neared the corner of the alley and peered around it. There were distinct shapes - someone on the ground writhing in pain, one cowering against the wall, and three that approached her. She heard the poor woman crying out for help and saw one of the advancing shadows reach a hand up to strike her across the face. Nausea broiled in the put of her stomach and Jessie took a cautious step in. For a moment she weighed her options - trying to decide what to do. Did she fight or did she fly? Whatever - or rather whoever she thought she saw obviously wasn't real. There was no Superman. But this woman still needed help. Jessie clung to her phone as though it was a bludgeoning weapon and dialed 911. She took a step forward - about to call out to the attackers - when another shadow landed in front of her.

The floors were swept. Curtains, a deep blue, hung straight and heavy over clean windows and the walls were neatly, uniformly painted with a warm brown. Cabinet doors were closed over their contents, the bed towards the back of the room was made, and the blanket pulled over the top was smooth and brightly colored, if a bit faded and worn. Even the herbs and candles scattered across the wooden table were done so in a systematic way, everything lining up according to some sort of order that wouldn’t be obvious to any outside observer.

“Hello” I shout. “Anybody there” I yell into the darkness. My voice echoes far into the darkness of the world beyond. I don’t know where I am, and I don’t know who I am. Each day I sit here calling out into the dark hoping to see the light. I am trapped. I travel each and every hour searching for light or a means to escape this perilous abyss. I wait for the light to reappear each day, small slivers of light at first. But, eventually the bright gleaming rays of light pierce the abyss.

I had been on a boat before, and I didn't usually tend to get sea sick. I felt a little queasy, but I knew I'd be alright. We were getting off of the ferry in less than forty minutes. I sat with Avenelle Jérôme on the edge of a window that was so long it touched the floor. So basically, we were sat on the floor, but that sounds filthy, doesn't it? "Nelly?" I mumbled, he was staring out at the murky waters below like a little kid, probably waiting for the coast of France to appear. Meanwhile, Nicki was on the top deck, using her iPhone to take pictures for her Tumblr.

He opens his eyes to see a slate white room. He turns his head to see a colossal amount of many different flowers. He hears a beeping beside the bed he is laying in. Then, he feels a rush of excruciating pain throughout his entire body. Suddenly, he feels as if somebody is tearing off his leg. He frantically yanks off the white sheets to reveal his a stub leg. He attempted to let out a scream but no air could come out. Finally, his mother runs in with decaying tissues in her hand and red puffy eyes. “Oh Derek!” she exclaims while thrusting him into her arms causing shocks of pain to circulate his body. “They said you might not wake up. Thank you! Thank you! Don’t worry it will be okay. Everything will be okay.” However, Derek didn’t believe anything she said. Nothing at that moment seemed okay. Derek closes his eyes hoping that if he fell asleep he could escape

I didn't know what to say to him. My mind was empty. I couldn't tell whether he was sad or angry. It was difficult for me to interpret his emotions. He was not the kind to sew his heart on his sleeve. Yet, I saw tears streaming down his cheek whenever he was all alone. I felt bad for him, for the boy whose parents had died in a storm.

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.

I stretch out on my white cotton bed sheets and yawn uncontrollably. Last night was unreal. I don't really remember anything that happened. I know I was with Angelina and Tara for most of the night. And then I was with Dustin. I didn't want to think right now, I wanted to sleep. But there was no way I could stay in bed any longer. I have to wake up early, even on weekends. It's some sort of "being productive" bullshit. Also I need something for this hangover, so I pull myself out of bed and walk to the bathroom.

"I wonder if we'll ever get the hell out of here?" We stated in uncertainty staring at the clock, begging it to go faster.