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.

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.

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.

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.

“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.

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.

Where am I? I open my eyes to slits and see blurry figures in front of me, chattering away. I can't quite make out who these people are because I can barely open my eyes fully without feeling like I'll drift back into sleep. After a minute or two, my eyes and ears begin to adjust, and I found myself lying on the grass.

“The blood can’t be hers. Not all of it anyway.”Danny looked a ways off, seeing how far the rain from the previous night carried the blood. It flowed just out of the alley way, peeking out where cars could just see it. Peeking out just enough so that one might stop, gripped by curiosity, and see it. Was this deliberate? Had the assailant predicted the rain fall? Was this body meant to be found? Or was it the simple justice of the universe, striving to right wrongs?

When Alma heard her name called, she broke free of the mesmerizing kiss. Running toward the house, she felt the first mist of rain and was grateful. Gabe released her hand as soon as they reached the yard.

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.

The bell rang, students sat in their seats, and they began to write down their homework.

Nessa had managed to stay under the radar of the law for almost a month. Then Jessie popped up at the Dungeon to pick up a package one night. She lit a cigarette and began to pace the Dungeon floors when he arrived.