Short Story About 9/11

Nothing I did worked. His skin, so close, so warm against my own, did it distract me? Was that it? I had done my best to free myself from the darkness he had encompassed around me, but my efforts did next to nothing in getting him away. He evaded it all. I was floundering amidst my own failure, but he was still there, still overshadowing me.

As kids, we were all warned about the basics. Call 911 for emergencies, tell an adult if someone touches you or even tell the teacher when someone says a bad word. But what happens when something happens to the last person you’d think it would happen to.. Yourself. Who could you actually turn to, and when the time struck, how would the words flow out to confess the crime done to you. Or even worse, would the words come out at all? “Can you tell me what happened exactly?” “It's okay to talk to us, we’re here to help you, not hurt you.” The words kept ringing in my head. But was it okay to talk to them? Speak of the unspeakable with people... people I didn't know, nor trust? Being so young I had no idea what was going on. As my heart was racing,

All I wanted was moments with my mom when I was nine; I did not get it. What about age ten, eleven, and twelve? My whole childhood was snatched out from under me, and I had to grow up way to fast. Don’t worry, I did not blame you. I blamed myself until I was fifteen. It was my fault my mother tried to drown my sisters and me. I saw signs and clues. I could tell she was not acting herself, but I said nothing. I didn’t go and ask another grownup for help. I put my sisters’ lives in danger, because I didn’t protect them.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?" A desperate eleven year old girl tried to answer the operator's question, but all I could manage were sobs.

Claire Alistar shifts in her seat to cross her right ankle primly over her left and readjusts her large, black sunglasses so that they sit farther down on her nose so that she looks even more unimpressed. "Beck got caught during a job in cicily? Really? Cicily?"

James laid in his bunk, squinting at his watch to see what time it was. Silently he sighed, and thought to himself. Dam I was afraid of this, four o’clock in the morning and I cannot sleep. All of a sudden James heard a voice whispering from behind him. “Hey James, what’s wrong, cannot sleep?” The

She had given this up. All of it. The path of the witches, she had decided, was not hers to take. Wielders of the gift were meant to maintain balance in a world of evil. But those same protectors had fallen prey to greed, pride and an overbearing lust for power. Bethany was raised on the stories of covens going to war and even siding with the monsters they had sworn to destroy. Beth had promised never to choose a side. And to fulfill her promise, she rid herself of her powers. So why was she here, staring at the tattered notebook that contained not only her history of witchcraft but also her magic? Pale, slender fingers flipped through the makeshift grimoire. The nightmares hadn’t stopped. They wouldn’t. Bethany was normally conscious enough to dream lucidly, but the dreams were spiraling out of control. She was aware of the old phrase, “if you die in your dreams you die for real”. That’s what frightened her. Every night she died. Her lack of magic made her vulnerable to attack. The identity of the attacker was unknown. But not

Thunderous roar reverberates in the sky, hole after another fill the world, from within, lay another roar which makes us shudder in fear.

“Back when I was in school I was always fascinated, about stars and the planets.”

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.

"Is it that hard to be serious for once?!" I yelled. Matt looked speechless. "You know what? Just forget about it." I sighed as I slammed the door behind me.

23 years have past and Irene is at the emergency office making phone calls to people who need her. “911 what’s your emergency?” She asks to a little boy on the phone.

Todays story will be a special one in honor of the upcoming Anniversary of 9-11-01

“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?

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.