9/11 Short Stories

There’s a young man laying in bed, who tries to fall asleep however is unable to; knowing that when he finally falls asleep — the soon subcumming nightmares will once again haunt his somber slumber. Tonight, no different than any other, the restless mind of the teenager is unable to bring calmness to his mind, he sits up from his bed. Friskly walking down the stairs, he slips on a white t-shirt, and plugs his iPod headphones in his ears. Iron Maiden’s flash of the blade, starts to play as he walks out the front door and starts to wander down the street, through the small neighborhood. He realizes he has no sense of destination or direction; he just aimlessly traverses the sidewalk is not paying attention to where he’s going, escaping

As he walks closer, the red mist spontaneously evaporates into a cloud — then morphing into a monstrous red demon who flies a good ten feet in the air, slowly flapping its red veiny wings. The putrid demon squeals, his spit spewing onto the man’s cheek, causing him to stumble. The young man runs the opposite direction of the demon; it slowly fades away into a mist again. Running up a nearby hill, the young lad leads enters a field of white roses, the young man stops a moment to catch his breath, the roses start to ooze blood, droplets falling all over his feet. As the young man is about to start running again — a trail of fire encircles him. Like a ghost walking through a wall, the red mist reappears slowly drifting through the fire. Unable to escape, the red mist slowly creeps toward the feet of the poor boy. Rising up around his ankles, until finally he starts to inhale the mist through his

His mind feels wiped clean as is if left as a blank slate of marble ready to be carved. The ground beneath him rumbles, the dirt unravels and is getting looser every second. The surrounding roots from the now exposed unraveling dirt, begin to harness his hands and legs, which conform wrap tightly like handcuffs, unabling him to break free. Slowly dragging him deep beneath the ground.

Awaking to blurred vision the young man notices his hands are bound tight together with coarse leather rope. He feels his hands bruising, as he is slowly being led down a dark hall by two red cloaked, masked men. White lanterns hang above, giving the hall a dark fluorescent glow. The young man feels the heat from several flickering candles, warm his skin walking deeper down another corridor.

Fully awake, the young man notices a metallic chain hanging toward the end of the room — which at one end bears a large sharp hook. The cloaked men, finally stop walking; arriving at a horrific mountain of human skulls. The light of a nearby burning torch, reveals one of the men to be wearing an elegant black crows mask; and the other wears what seems to be an actual pig’s skinned head. Their long red robes are stitched with intricate Egyptian lettering along the hem. The man in the crow’s mask grabs part of the chain and beginning to pull down. Ultimately, lowering the large sharp hook into