9/11 Short Stories

Chris had a stern yet confused look on his face “Yeah, I mean isn’t this great? I finally found something for myself. This has been my lifelong dream, haven’t I told you? I mean I’m fast, I’m strong-”

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.

"I suppose the boy's got a point," Arthur said. "Look at the pup's li’l legs. Something like that is useless in here."

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.

“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!”

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.

Amidst the swirling ripple of faceless people meandering around fire hydrants, pedestrian signs, and ragged newspaper stands, he stood; embedded within the relentless stream of continuous people trickling by him. The occasional nudge threatened to dislodge his balance as he gazed across the road where two buildings laden by carmine shaded bricks separated. The same two buildings he walked directly pass early in the dewy morning and late in the brisk evening weather everyday for the past two decades. Surely he knew every wondering power line and dimly lit alley of the surrounding neighborhood? Yet something glimmered from in between the impossibly small gap separating the buildings. His conscious turned from thought to action as he leapt from the scuffed curb and into the high voltage current of traffic without a second

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,

“Not good,” he replied softly, before sipping his coffee. “We had the same experience, she said nothing to us, showed no interest in anything…what about drugs?”

As soon as Day opened the door smoke billowed in. She quickly adjusted her mask and closed the door. The smoke covered everything like a thick blanket. For a while the sun and the smoke had fought, but eventually the sun had succumbed to the smoke, like everything else. The only light now was electrical, but unlike the sun they weren’t bright and happy. The lights held no warmth and instead seemed to make the world colder. It hadn’t changed overnight. It was the same cold and dismal place. Day started towards the market. People scarcely walked the streets and instead rode in Machines. The machines had made the world like this, if you could even call it a world.

Dawn hummed the tune to the familiar intro. She carried the soda pop, sandwiches, potato chips, and other snacks from the dock’s gangplank to the deck of the boat as she sang…

“Uh, yeah- I guess you can say I enjoy a cup of coffee every once in awhile.” I try to casually laugh it off to no avail.

Hours later, Stanley finally opened his eyes, and looked around him. A rope was tied from under his wound to his waist, and was unbreakable for his condition. “What the..?” He said, confused.

“Listen, I’ll explain in a second. But, no one going to die, except maybe Glenjamin if it bleeds out- we can clean up the mess later, but right now…” Perrotin’s eyes widen as they lifted something off the ground using the platform ,”Guys, I found it.”

“I’m still thinking about it, buddy.” Tyler replied back. “If I don’t know how to ride it, what’s the point of even buying one? I’ll just end up wasting more money.”