9/11 Short Stories

The blanket of smoke that smothered the street lingered still. It crept slowly upwards: the awful scent burning noses; the fumes suffocating any that dared to remain. The war that was raging on in other lands had now been thrown upon their doorstep. What had once been a bustling urban location, always full of animation, now lay crumbled in a miserable pile of bricks, ash and smoke. The motor cars that usually hurtled down the street ceased to exist. Fire engines that had previously blasted their sirens from the station at the end of the street were now at the many other areas of the city that had been hit with the same dramatic fate. A single stray cat slunk quietly between the broken pieces. The silence was deafening, a sad atmosphere hanging

Her small, trembling hands pressed hard against her ears and her eyes were squeezed tightly closed, desperately trying to block out the harsh reality that lay in rubble around her. Mother had been right.

“Send her to the country,” Mother had pleaded with the authorities over and over, “It isn’t safe here.”

That fact was true – it was not safe – but here was her home: how could she have left her Mother here alone? The woman who was supposed to love and care for her was now a poor crazed widow, in need of care herself. Her Father had been killed during one of the attacks. The bombs had wailed downwards from the sky, spinning and spiralling, raining terror on all the people below. There had not been time for her father to escape: he had returned inside from their shelter in a desperate bid to rescue her loving companion, a small scared puppy, from the house in which he had been trapped.

But that was when it had hit. The entire world seemed to go into slow motion: she saw the flames as they engulfed her home, and with it her Father. She heard her Mother’s devastated cries. She choked upon her own unpreventable screams. She felt the ground shake like an earthquake as the device detonated all but a few yards from where she crouched. Her whole body became frozen, paralysed as her world collapsed in front of her very eyes. There was absolutely nothing she could do to save her

Each day, each minute, each second that passed, dragged on longer than the last. It left a gaping hole in the shape of her father so fresh and significant in their lives, which was far too painful to fill. Her Mother had tried so hard to remain strong, but now she broke down more and more often, crumbling just like all the buildings in the street.

She glanced towards her Mother, who crouched in a similar position, rocking and trembling, trying to ignore the world. She wanted to be brave, for her Mother could be no longer, but she too was terrified: terrified of what she had seen; of what she may see; of what she may become. She reached for her Mother’s shaking hand, whether for reassurance or just to show her she was there, she was unsure. All she knew now was that she had to be brave, and they had to stick together.

It was not until the next morning that they were allowed back out of the shelter. She took in her surroundings: destroyed buildings; smoking piles; broken lives. The worst thing, however, were the body parts that were scattered around. She could not miss them: friends, family, strangers, all stolen from their lives before their time. The thoughts in her head swirled and merged into one- nothing made sense