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.

After close to four hours of waiting at Java Jolt and endless cups of coffee, the bell on the crowded coffee shop door rang, and London walked in looking around for us. “How’s the scene? Do you know how many casualties?” I asked.

The dog coolly watched the whole charade from the top of the hill and, having learned his lesson about going straight down, turned away from the steep hill and trotted down the service road. We half-walked and half-slid our way to the bottom, where he was waiting for us with his stupid dog grin.

The old man quickly realized that he was a fake version of his kind. The old man swung at him to see if he would react and see if he can go fast in time and try to evade it. Jacob failed and got hit by the old man's blade by a bit and cut his hand open. The old man told him that he was too slow and that he can do it faster. As Jacob argued with him saying why he did that, the man got bandages and covered him up.

Red light, bright as the midday sun, flared into existence. It began to flicker and waver. Small tongues of flame spread their reach, jumping from the floor onto the nearby curtains. It began to pick up the pace as it consumed more and more like a starving creature. In seconds, it had spread to all the curtains that spanned across the room-length window. Smoke filled the air, giving the walls a fine layer of ash and soot. In the bed opposite the window, a girl rested her head. Her eyes flashed open as she breathed in the heavy tang.

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

figures dart between the devastating ruins of the condemned buildings; they weave in and out crossing the darkened rain-watered streets avoiding the searching spotlight. Hiding in collapsing doorways and the war-torn wreckage abandoned by the many that perished trying to defend them. Working hard to blend with the deteriorating walls and the half-standing shells of the concrete rubble, They use the many trash-filled alleys as their temporary cover. Mindful that the German snipers scan the area for any would-be terrorists, they keep a watchful eye on the rooftops. Michelle decides, in this case, there is not strength in numbers. “We must separate,” she mentions,

The moon fell into the Neverland and you could hear the birds flying in the air as the sun started to rise into the sky. Beams of light hit the windows of Chris’s house as the chimes started to sound. The windows were cracked just enough to hear the blowing sound of a whisper. There was a cracking at the door just before the alarm rang and he picked open his eyes. His mother stood there looking over him with love in her eyes. Chris laid there debating whether to get up out of bed.

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.

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.

I open my eyes and the first thing I notice besides the fact that I’m not in my room was the giant pile of shattered glass. I look away from the pile of glass and see a large group of tents and at least ten campfires. Instinctively I get up and start walking towards the tents. All of a sudden a strangely dressed man appears in front of me in a puff of smoke. I fall on my butt out of sheer shock.

You’d like to say that it was some epic and heroic series of events that had finally ended you. That you had sacrificed your life to save your friends, but no. It was the boring old natural way of life that got you. You had cancer, and it was killing you.

A panicked yelp rang out in the distance, followed by a screech of tires. The women continued walking, only a few casting a wondering glance towards the noise. The church bell was ringing, merry as we exited the church and the wind blew gently. My mother and father engaged the locals in conversation, eager to know more about the island we were on, Nui Tapu Tapu, a place only really known because of the tsunami damage it took on in September 2009. “What is that?” I asked my mother, as I pointed to two men dragging something black behind them. Yet before she could answer, I figured it out for myself. A strange pit formed in my stomach as I watched them drag a young dog behind them. “That must have been what caused the screech earlier.” My mother

It was a snowy cold night when me and my friends Gabe, Jacob, and Ryan decided to go for a walk in the city of Boston. On our way walking down the long cracked up sidewalk, we heard a weird crackling sound coming from the other side of the road. “ What in the living world is that Peter,” exclaimed Gabe.

The clarity of the reverberation of metal scraping the cobblestones sent shivers up my spine. As the sounds of a chase shattered the silence of the frigid London night, I thought back to every mistake and immoral decision I’d made in my life that led me to that moment. The list was longer than chances I had of living.