9/11 Short Stories

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.

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.

The darkness in the sky gave a hint towards the evil lurking in the world. Suspicion filled the minds of all trusted to defend particular terrain. A wind blew across the world. The kind of wind that seemed to whisper,” Boo”. Upon a strike of thunder, rain started to beat the ground. An aroma of terror had been commenced.

Ian watched the teacher walk out the door, eyes flicking to the analog clock across the room, making eye contact with a certain pretty blonde at the table horizontal to his.

“What is wrong with you?” Ellie exclaims out loud. She doesn’t care when the few people she passes turn to stare at her. “He is just a man, granted, a remarkably hot, good looking one. However, that is no excuse for you behaving like a love struck teenager.” Sighing Ellie scans the street for the restaurant Becky recommended. There, just down the street, Sarah’s Cozy Café, she starts walking quickly towards it.

Loathed them, actually, with a passion. When their eyes widened and started to water, when their knees began to tremble, when the moon slowly began to appear behind their gaze — that was when his lips curved in a sneer and his words were dipped in poison.

A small, fifteen-year-old boy huddled in a dingy alleyway in the heart of Manhattan. Never mind that it was almost Christmas; all he was really aware of was the bitter cold. He dreaded this time of year for that exact reason. Plus, the homeless shelters were fuller now than at any other time, so he had no hope of finding refuge there.

The fireworks had just ended leaving large smoke clouds in the sky, and the large swarms of people made there way to the front gate. Lauren reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone to check the time. She clicked the lock button on the side a few times before realizing I had died. She sighed heavily knowing she had probably missed Camila’s good night text. Something they had done every night around the same time for the last 4 years.

“Madeline,” I hear through my endless solitude. It was quiet enough that I could have imagined it. I must have wanted to hear it so bad that I thought it was there. Thwarted by my realization, I close my eyes and try to fall asleep. “Madeline” it says again. I open my eyes to find that same sunny ceiling, in an entirely empty room. “Madeline.” It

I stretch out on my white cotton bed sheets and yawn uncontrollably. Last night was unreal. I don't really remember anything that happened. I know I was with Angelina and Tara for most of the night. And then I was with Dustin. I didn't want to think right now, I wanted to sleep. But there was no way I could stay in bed any longer. I have to wake up early, even on weekends. It's some sort of "being productive" bullshit. Also I need something for this hangover, so I pull myself out of bed and walk to the bathroom.

There was a blanket of darkness in the room; as if someone had woven the sky into a dark cloth and spread it over the room. It was cold. Colder than the frostbite slowly inching up Robert Peary’s leg. An icy blue flame was flickering above the wick of a well-used candle. The misty shade of purple from the curtains filled the room with a bleak atmosphere. On top of a wooden drinks cabinet sat a wireless whispering in the background of the room.

“Describe to me everything that happened between first seeing Sarah and now,” requested the Police officer.

I couldn’t breath. Dust was everywhere. Our little town of Lakewood in Oklahoma, has vanished. Cars were now piles of dust on the road. Crops were now dry and nowhere to be seen. My eyes burned and itched. Our house was once a home, but now it looked dark. Dark and scary. It was not as white as it used to be. It always looked happy and felt like a home. But now our house, didn’t feel or look like a home. The walls were cracked and the windows were full of dust. The floors were scratched and clawed. Our beds and blankets are not safe places anymore. The food that we consume, tastes raw, bitter, and has no flavor. We’re eating and swallowing dust everyday. Pa has tired marks on his face. Ma doesn’t cook us our favorite meals anymore. Rose and

Someone is touching my face, slowly running long fingers through my hair and down the side of my sore face. It’s what causes me to stir and gradually wake up in an aching body I wish I didn’t own. I groan, rolling my face away from the hand. The word, angel, continues to be softly repeated over and over again, but there’s something mocking, almost angry, in the voice.