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.

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.

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.

I woke up to the Loud shots of gun fire not knowing where I was or how I got here. I quickly (scrambled) to my feet with hundreds of thoughts racing through my mind. When I stepped outside I quickly realized that I was in a nightmare that I could not get out of. I overheard the officers say we were in soldau, i grew up in the area with my mom, dad, grandpa and three older brothers. I walked around looking for someone I knew, anyone. The only way I could come out of this camp alive is to have and ally to ration food and water with. I quickly and (swiftly) scanned the faces of the (miserable) prisoners for someone i knew. One person looked particularly familiar but i could not put my finger on who it was, so i walked up to him and said ‘’hello’’ and before i could say anything more the man hugged me so tight i could barely breath. Still not knowing who this man was i hugged him back as if i had never felt

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

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

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.

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.

When Rainbow finished her weather patrol duties of clearing the dismal clouds that hung over Ponyville and in other ethereal regions across Equestria, she bolted to The Golden Oak Library; so she could go home and see Twilight, her inamorata. After landing in front of the library, she then took a quick look around to see if Twilight was outside. Not in sight. Satisfied, she tried the latch and found the door unfastened. She entered and closed the door.

The rain got harder as Tina walked alone in tears. She missed her daughter Iris. Tina thought about all the good times they had together. She wondered why Iris had done that to herself. Iris was a skinny young girl who killed herself. Iris wa bullied at school for how far she was, so Iris decided to stop eating. Tina was walking in the rain. It had been a year since Iris was gone. She thought back to that day. Tina woke up and made herself some coffee. She nibbled on a muffin that she bought from the store yesterday. She took Iris to school and then went to work. Tina went throughout her day as usual, but what she didn’t know was that soon her daughter would take her own life. Iris got home and went up into her bedroom. Tina wouldn’t get home

He came out the shadows after her, making noises again, and she was running and laughing wildly, all her fear sucked up by the thrill. He caught her and swung her around, and she couldn’t breath.

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.