9/11 Short Stories

The narrator dismembers the old man’s body after making sure he was completely dead. He then proceeds to conceal his body parts underneath the floor boards and makes sure he hides all evidence from the crime. The old man’s scream from earlier caused a neighbor to report to the cops and the narrator confidently invites him to look around. He states that the screams came from him after the nightmare he had and that the old man has left after the country. Being that he was so confident that they would not find out about the murder, he provided them chairs to sit in the old man’s room, right above where his body laid and engaged in conversation with them.

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.

“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.

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,

It all started as June was loitering beside a busy street, ignoring the construction of the new building being put in place. It was almost done as she could tell, glass windows lining the sides and brick next to it. June shielded her eyes from the glass reflecting the sunlight, making the windows sparkle. June briefly brushed a strand of her jet black, silky hair behind her ear.

She ran as fast as her feet could take her. The moonlight weaved in and out of the branches illuminating spots she could reach. She did not dare to turn back to look over her shoulder because she knew it is how the killer always got the victim. Her white slip teared when it got snagged against a branch. Her fingers gripped the silk material and held it together by the tattered seams. She quickly began her escape once more and found a clearing from the icy branches.

‘Beep’
I answered the intercom.
“Mr. and Mrs. Taylor are here regarding their missing son” answered Sally, my assistant.
I signaled her to send them in. They entered with a melancholy look on their faces. Hand in hand they had a puppy like look that I couldn’t say no to. So with comfort and reassurance I urged them to share their horrific story. The story was that Matt; the Taylor’s son was reported
missing a few days ago. He was let go from school but never turned up at home. I assured them that I will do all that I can do and sent them home.

The case wasn’t that unique as there have been many disappearances and kidnappings in this town. Most of the kids are just trying to get out of this unexciting and dreary town or just wanted to get away

Scarlett walked into the cafeteria and was shocked to see that it wasn’t as elegant or formal like the rest of the school, but instead looked like any school’s cafeteria would. She walked in slowly and stood there for a moment as she scanned through the crowd of people who were finding their seats and sitting with their friends. She couldn’t seem to find anyone that she knew, but she could see that the room was separated into the different branches. There was a section for all of the different branches except it looked like the Protectors and the Warriors were merged into the same group.

Jolted awake by the light shining directly in her face, Casey opened her eyes to find Ray leaning on one elbow staring at her as she slept. Twisting his wrist, she checked the time on his watch. “We’re late. Why didn’t you wake me?”

He stopped; footsteps stunned into silence. His face was drawn; his cheeks sunken. The red stain of his shadow faded as the horizon devoured the sun, engulfing him in darkness. The moon rose higher and the stars came out one by one, their celestial dance glittering in the dissipating clouds. His eyes began to adjust to the darkened surroundings as he took one last glance behind him. In that moment he knew he was leaving his past for good.

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.

“MUM! Wait!” I yell. My throat is sore, partly from the yelling, but mostly from the running. The thick, night fog blocked my vision of the path ahead completely, only allowing the occasional glow of the street lamps barely come in sight. I don't remember why I’m running or where I’m headed exactly, just that something is going to happen. Something bad; but what? I trust my instincts to guide me through the maze of eerily empty streets and parked cars. I thought I’d seen something move in the corner of my eye, that’s when I hear the deafening explosion to my right. I cower beneath my arms, ready to anticipate the blazing heat of the supposed flames. I don’t feel anything. I realize why. Towering above me, a pair of worried eyes cautiously

The neighbors alert the police, and soon after the young man cuts up the body and hides it body under floor, the police arrive. They ask to inspect the house and the young man agrees. He mocks them by helping them search for the body. They all end up in the old mans bedroom, and they begin talking. The young man begins to get paranoid as he claims to hear the beating of the old mans heart from under the floor.