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.

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

Nothing was heard, only the water droplets that drops from the crack ceiling. Making a small puddle on the ground, having mice roaming around the place.

“Come here, look,” she would say, her voice trembling with every syllable, “we received an encrypted letter from Langley.”

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.

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.

“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 come in sight. I don't remember why I’m running or where I’m headed, just that something is about to happen. I trust my instincts to guide me through the maze of eerily empty streets.

“I'm coming, Im com..” says Jack as his voice fades off. Sarah and I stop running to make sure Jack was okay. I saw that he had stopped.

The oldest residents of the hospital basement were the spiders and their webs, a clear sign that no one else's footsteps had echoed within these walls for years. Maya's eyes darted around in concern not wanting to get in trouble for the third time this month. She glanced towards Ash who held the torch shining it onto old files of older patients buried just outside the centre. The smell of rotting wood and metal hung in the air, a pile of blood covered sheets tossed in the corner.

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

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,

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.

For two weeks, I didn’t see my father at all. I woke up, every day, hoping that he would be in the dining room helping Dusty out with the making of breakfast. Instead, for the past two weeks, I woke up to the usual: breakfast on the table, Dusty and Vinyl calling me down to join them with still no sign of my father. No longer, for those two weeks, did I wake up to the smell of water vapour from Jazzmere’s smoking pipe. No longer, for those two weeks, did I wake up to Jazzmere singing old Equestrian songs about the Princesses and how they formed the kingdom. No longer, for those two weeks, did I wake up to the hissing sound of the iron Jazzmere used to iron the clothes I wore to school.

Waking up to see nothing, feel nothing, nothing at all. How would you feel about that when you woke up in the morning? For Carl it was a bit shocking, an 18-year-old teen. He didn’t know what was going on around him, but what he did know was that color was gone of the world, as if it never existed. For Carl, went about to ask what is going on today? Why nothing had color at all? No one ever responded to him as if he was a ghost; it literally drove him mad and his head exploded with rage. No one even noticing him yelling with frustration, so he walks out of the school to go home. Again he notices everything around him is so doll and boring as if people are walking around like zombies.