It was dark at school today,

like the clouds were filled with smoke

Every day is the same,

Wake up

Go to school, Go to practice

Come home

Take off my wet shoes and sit on the couch

Turn on the TV and start my homework.

A plane crashes into a building

I hate these stupid TV movies

Change the channel

Another plane crashing into a building

A woman’s scream, hysteria, better than any actress

I sit up, drop my homework, watch and listen

Call my mom, she’s a flight attendant

She picks up, everything’s fine.

And then I realize the world has changed

And our history books have just become a little thicker.

Dustin

I thought an earthquake had just shaken the building. The floor I was on rattled and lights flickered, frames on walls fell off and shattered. Then, just as it had begun, it was over.

I continued to walk down the hall to the room where I had my appointment. Then, it happened again and we all hysterically tried to get out. The exits were crowded and some people were desperately taking elevators, knowing that they might break. My heart was beating fast and I couldn’t catch my breath. Why had we been bombed?

With the rush of people I tried climbing down the stairs. It was no use.

It was too crowded. Thoughts rushed through my head. I should have gone with my mom to the store like she wanted instead of coming here. I knew I would not make it out. I wanted so many things and now it was over. I wanted to graduate from college, get married, and travel. But no! All that was savagely taken from me.

I had only one decision that was fully mine left to make. I walked to the edge of the window and looked down. I took a deep breath and jumped. Freedom! I thought.

Janet

Heard it on the radio first, on the way to school

Some no talent shock-jock relaying the message –

Music on once again, no big deal

It’s no big deal till I’m in class,

asked to bow my head, because

before my groggy awakening

at eight a.m., people were

jumping out of huge burning

buildings, important ones far away

No one I know, still not a

big deal, till I get to P.E.,

have to talk about it instead of running

a mile, and then a discussion of

feelings in algebra

I thought, buildings get bombed all the

time. In other countries, this sort

of thing is normal, I thought.

I imagine it on the news at six in

third world countries. But

when I get home and it’s all over my

TV, CNN bleeding onto MTV and even

Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, I get

it.

This is America, and this kind of

thing is a big deal.

Steven

September 11^th in Medina, Ohio

I was a twenty-year-old missionary

We didn’t have a TV or a radio

even though we lived in a Cleveland suburb.

I was roused from reading

by a loud TV voice

I looked down the hall of the

apartment building

and the voice grew louder

I followed it to the source.

Blaring from two doors down

was a news report of

a catastrophe in New York.

My heart felt like lead.

As we drove through the

Trees I recalled the phone call

to my sister in California, home

What’s wrong? she asked.

“You tell me.” I said.

Unfathomable destruction

It was good to hear her voice.

That evening we ate and talked

with an inviting family.

We tried to speak lightly of

mundane matters.

Every now and then one of us

would walk into the sitting room

to see the looped tape.

Towers collapsing,

words of devastation

ran like ticker-tape

below the plummeting symbol

of American commerce.

Surreal is

the next few weeks.

Teaching of Heaven and Earth

but in the back corner

of our minds – Loss.

Tragic loss.

Vincent

An Observer

I watched as the towers crumbled to the ground.

Someone brought out a camera and I thought to myself,

“You’re crazy, just run.”

I ran as fast as I could, trying to get as far away from

the collapsing towers as I could.

People were screaming, many of them turned towards the

horrid scene as if it were a movie.

I felt disgusted at them. Why were they so fascinated

by a symbol of death?

Those who were stuck in traffic when the planes crashed

got out of their cars; they were running , like me.

It was reassuring to know that at least some people

had some sense.

Once I reached a good distance away from the

towers, I pulled out my cell phone.

I frantically began dialing numbers of friends and family

members who worked in or near the World Trade Center.

I cried hard thinking that something terrible might have

happened to my wife, who worked in an elementary school

nearby. She was the first person I called.

After she reassured me that she was okay, I phoned

my parents; they seemed to be fine as well.

Then, a feeling of dread washed over me as I thought about

the passengers on the two planes.

I remembered my own panic for my loved ones, and then

thought about how the family members of those passengers

might feel. I cried harder for those who were lost.

The death of several strangers is just as significant

as the death of a loved one.

Charmaine

I remember waking up, startled, to the blaring voice of a

newscaster. The towers have fallen.

Smoke rising, citizens fleeing, New York in chaos, the world

in shock.

Period after period, we shuffle to our classrooms reliving

the fall. Play and rewind, play and rewind. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

It never goes away.

“Does anybody have family or friends in New York?” a teacher asks.

No. I feel separated.

My world of dating, prom, and SATs is interrupted.

They say we have an enemy; America is ready to attack.

It is now us versus “the terrorists.”

But I do not want to fight.

Stacy

6:00 in the morning

rolled out of bed in my t-shirt and shorts.

brushed my teeth, shaved

and was about to take a shower

when my roommate, Dean comes out of his room

to tell me, “Come watch the television, Mike.”

I walk into his room with the whitewashed walls,

turn on his television, and there it was.

The twin towers were burning. Nothing else.

CNN was asking viewers who could have done this.

As the newscaster was reporting, a plane flew in

and crashed into one of the towers, sending giant

flames throughout the entire building. I stood there,

shocked, not saying a word.

When most of the smoke cleared, the unthinkable happened.

130 stories of brick, steal and mortar came tumbling down

like a Jenga puzzle, worst morning of my life.

Every news station around the nation had been covering

the incident. I felt sorry right then and there for

everyone going to work at the Twin Towers that

beautiful morning. I said a silent prayer, and headed off to class.

“How ironic the date,” I thought. “911.”

Michael

I didn’t know

who they were or what had just

happened. I couldn’t have pointed to the

Middle East on a map even if my life

depended on it. Heck, I was so clueless, I

couldn’t have told you where the twin towers

were. I didn’t know the importance of the

event or what is was about.

But I did know that something,

Something tragic had just happened.

José

I woke up that morning and went downstairs

in fluffy white slipper covered feet,

catching a view of myself in the hall mirror on the way

to the kitchen, pillow lines deep as fault lines red on my face,

my hair frizzed-out and yet somehow flattened-looking at the same time.

And I thought: I’m getting old.

In the kitchen, I punch the coffee maker on, and as it

gurgles and spits I take my seat in the right hand corner of the couch

and pick up the remote, vaguely anticipating recipes on the Early Morning Show,

fall fashion advice, weather forecasts to prepare me for the week ahead.

Instead there is this footage on every channel of a plane,

Small, toy-like, silver, embedding itself into the Twin Towers in New York,

so small, so very far away, it can’t be real.

My eyes go numb. Unreal, maybe it was a trailer for a

new action movie, my brain chatters to me cheerfully, stupidly,

maybe they are building up the hype for it with a

War of the Worlds type scare and it’s all a sham,

we’ll laugh about it later, about how easily we are

led into panic and frenzy.

Yet the newscaster sounds genuinely frightened,

and the footage plays over again, and again.

I change the channel. I want to make it go away,

to put anything, even commercials, in its place

to escape it all before my husband wakes up.

In my mind I see the look on his face, watching

the plane blow up, the fire and smoke bubble and expand.

He will wear the soot of that fire on his face even though

we live miles away.

I change the channel over and over and over again,

but all I get is the same crash, the same smoke, shown

horribly silent, as though occurring in the vacuum of space.

There should have been a noise: a big boom, human screams, something.

But it was all silent on the television screen,

the silence filling the gap in between changing channels.

Five hours later and I am still watching.

Betsy

I woke up that Tuesday morning thinking that

it would be like all regular school days.

My dad was in the family room watching the news as usual.

I went about my daily morning routine when I heard my dad

Let out a noise, a kind of groan, full of fear and sorrow, I never

Heard him make before.

Apparently, that was when the second plane hi.

I sat down next to my dad and watched what was happening.

I didn’t have anything to say because really, what could I say,

when innocent lives were being lost at this very moment?

Before I knew it, the clock read 9:15 and I was already late for school.

Apparently, everyone else was late for school that day too. Throughout

the day, my teachers put all their plans on hold for open discussion.

Everyone at school was talking about what happened

And how such a thing could happen in our country. My Spanish

teacher even started crying because she couldn’t get a hold of

her daughter who lived in New York.

When I saw that, I knew this attack hit close to all our hearts!

I remember going to bed that night reflecting on my day and

surprising myself by turning to prayer.

I hadn’t said my nightly prayers since I was a little girl and

on this night, praying seemed like the right thing to do.

Nicole Y.

I was setting up my desk for the start of my social studies class.

The pencil was ready to go at the front of the table and

my book was resting just beneath it and off to the side.

Ready to be cracked open at a moment’s notice.

As Mr. Burley began to lecture, he stood his

left foot on top of the nearest desk and

leaned forward resting his arms on his knee.

We always thought he looked like he was about to conquer something.

Just then a man who worked in the office came up and handed Mr. Burley a green paper.

He was quiet and his expression never changed as he read it. I guess he got

the gist from the very first line of it.

Then he spoke very slowly. “A plane has crashed into one of the

buildings of the World Trade Center. We don’t know much but does

anyone have any questions?”

We were silent. What was the World Trade Center? I wanted to ask that question but

no one else seemed lost.

Joe Buckley raised his hand. “What kind of plane was it? A small one, right? One of those crop-dusters?

Mr. Burley looked down at the green sheet.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t say. But once more is known, they should be making announcements.

Does anyone have family in New York?”

One girl raised her hand.

“You can go down to the office and call your family.” After she left with a backwards look over her shoulder, Mr. Burley put his foot back on top of the desk and continued.

I didn’t realize that is was one of the Twin Towers until lunch. And by then, it was both. I sat at

the lunch table under the TV with 3 of my friends.

We just watched in shock as the smoke grew and the tiny bodies jumped from roofs.

I couldn’t believe that it had happened so close and yet

no one here in the cafeteria seemed to care. Boston is far enough from

New York for schools not to close down, but not far enough away

for people to act like this. For all the other students to eat lunch with their backs to the TV.

On the TV the second building fell.

My classmates kept eating, unaware, unbothered.

I put my head down. Trying to figure out which was worse.

Emily

Employee in the 2^nd tower

I heard the sound of a plane hit

the first tower. It sounded like an earthquake

and shook like thunder.

I didn’t think much of it.

Some of my co-workers left, but I stayed.

I needed to get some work done.

Then I heard that same sound.

It came from above.

Then I looked up and saw the

ceiling drop, knocked down like

blood-hot blackness.

Sheila

I saw the future as I saw the towers fall

saw it before because

of Oklahoma.

Americans hate Arabs more than

Russians

Asians

Germans

or any they hated before.

They butcher us in their films

Disregard our culture as backward and oppressive

When the bomb went off in

Oklahoma,

they blamed us all.

Women covering their heads in modesty

Children saying hamdilulah instead of bless you

when they sneeze,

Men with earth tone skin and thick dark hair

They punished us all before it was revealed

to be two

white

Christian

men

I knew it would happen again when I saw

the towers fall

And when one evil man who happened to share

my faith and birthplace admitted responsibility

it became worse.

They’ll kill us all.

Ahmed

As I picked up the phone

and my mind came to sorts

the shrieking panic flooded my ears

“We’re under attack! We’re

under attack!”

said the disembodied voice.

I, half ridden with fear, half asleep

stumbled out of my bed.

Walking in a trance-like state downstairs,

I approached the television.

TV is a funny thing;

reality becomes so flat

and muted.

but not this morning

this movie playing before

me

so carefully labeled “Live”

in the corner of the screen

had no stop, no pause, no escape

I sat, numb and still, and

closed my eyes

What is today? Where am I?

On the table, a bouquet of

roses, blood red.

presents thrown about like a crumbled

building after a war

Balloons floating as if trying to

escape the harsh reality keeping

them tethered to the ground.

It is the 11^th of September. Now I remember

I look up through my tears of bewilderment,

and there she stands like a newly

blossomed flower, trampled

“Happy Sweet 16, Sis”

such sweet words never tasted more sour.

Kelly

I kept climbing,

climbing

those unending stairs.

I had already deposited

my helmet, jacket &

breathing apparatus

many floors ago.

They were

too heavy.

I couldn’t breathe

I was sweating profusely,

making me crave buckets of

water to dump over my head.

And yet I kept climbing

climbing.

Everyone else was running

down them.

Running to safety

to fresh, open air.

They pointed upward and told

me floor 54.

Climbing, climbing.

Those people trapped

needed me, needed my help.

Exhausted, out of breath,

I came upon floor 54.

The door wouldn’t open

but I could hear voices

Faint voices,

but voices calling help.

Calling for me.

So I threw my weight

against the door.

Once, twice, three times.

The fourth time moved

the door open several inches.

I could see eyes.

Many sets of eyes looking

back at me.

Hopeful eyes, scared eyes.

There was no way out

they said.

And then screams.

Screams starting from the

lower levels, echoing up to

my ears on floor 54.

The first tower is down

people were shouting.

Fatal panic now.

Panic everywhere, not much time.

And I looked back

at the eyes on the

other side

of the door.

I told them I would

stay until they were safe.

Lisa

The voice of my friend, Humair Khan

Nobody noticed I was Muslim—

not until the towers came crashing down

I had been with the same people for four years

but now I became their enemy

All of a sudden I was a towel head

or any other slur they decided to call me

I was the president of the student body,

the student body of a catholic school

and now I was not welcome

I led a memorial service

I read a poem I wrote about the tragedy

but still, I was not like them

I too mourned for the loss of lives

I too wept for America’s suffering

I was born and raised on American soil

But felt like I was in a foreign land

When will you accept me again?

How many times will I have to prove

I love my country

I did not fly those planes

I did not cause the towers to fall

Please, see me as I was

before the day you noticed

that somehow I was different than you.

Nicole S.

I went to school like any other day,

but today wasn’t like any other day.

It was September 11, 2001.

The twin towers fell and there was

much speculation over who was to

blame.

As the weeks went by I could feel

that my name held a new meaning

in their eyes.

Many of them looked at me different,

noticing an ethnicity where before

there was none.

My skin suddenly felt darker and set

me apart and my rough facial hair

drew their attention.

“Where’s your turban?” someone yelled

from down the hall.

Assumptions were made where before

no one cared, and still now on one

bothered to ask.

Suddenly it felt as if everyone around

me was whispering.

Secrets, forbidden to my ear, but

which rang loudly in my mind.

Eyes always watching my every move,

convicted without a trial.

Every airport and passport check the same.

How is it a coincidence that the

passport reading “Darius Asgarzahdeh Haghighi” was read

the same every time? How is it a random

check when I am stopped and checked

everytime?

It makes me believe there are

really no real coincidences in life.

Leanne

Lying in bed,

peacefully, far off in my dreams.

The door bursts open,

snapping me out of my sleep.

“A plane flew into the Twin Tower,”

my mom said.

Disoriented, I was not sure

what to make of it.

“A tragedy,” I thought;

yes, at most it was an

accident. A horrific accident.

A pilot gone way off.

I put my head back on the pillow,

but could not go back to sleep.

An accident, it has to be,

I told myself again.

A second time the door burst open,

like the wind, carrying

the tragic news,

“Now it’s the Pentagon,”

my mother cried.

This time, I knew it was

real.

I could feel my thoughts spinning like

a top in my frazzled head.

An accident this could not be.

I sat silent

watching the images unfold

on the screen.

Even while the feeling

that this was real had

hit me,

now I sat in disbelief,

too stunned to speak.

The people

mothers, fathers,

sisters, brothers, those

who could not be represented

in numbers.

Is this America?

Where is this that I’m living?

This doesn’t happen here!

I thought.

But there it was.

It was happening.

And all I could

do was watch.

How? How could there be a tomorrow,

when this, this moment,

this day, seemed to be

the whole world …

and it was crumbling.

Jessica

I can still see those people jumping—

jumping to their deaths, but

at least freely choosing the way they’d

go,

freely choosing, hoping that leap from the

windows they smashed through would land

them safely

hoping emergency personnel would catch them.

I came to these scenes on CNN, coming to

teach my composition class in the

computer classroom, the TV left on from

the previous class

I came to these scenes from my sheltered

World of Western North Carolina

came unaware, having been too involved in the

last minute plans for my class

to grasp the reality colleagues had tried to tell me--

a plane had crashed

into the World Trade Center

I watched the screen, shocked and silent as the

second plane flew into the Towers and

the buildings crumpled, surreal

My students watched too; a young woman left in

tears – her father was at the Pentagon.

Dr. Warner

Jogging across campus,

I thought about the class I was late to.

Parking was a nightmare,

And that was all I could think about,

In that morning.

I opened the door in a rush.

The only thing I could think about

Was finding a seat without the teacher seeing me.

The first thought I had was when I saw the news

On a giant screen in the classroom,

Thank God I was late on a film day.

I sat down

Collected myself

Still not knowing how the world had changed

I looked upon the screen

And I realized

that the minute I opened that door

I had stepped into a different world.

A world where the towers had fallen,

where I could smell the jet fuel

Feel the flames

Hear the screams of human beings

Of my fellow Americans and our enemies.

The only thing I could think about

was nothing,

The only think I could believe,

Nothing.

The only thing I could feel

nothing.

The truth I could not comprehend.

The event I could not believe.

The world I still am just barely coming to terms with.

Shih Fa

“East Coast is all destroyed”

a voice on the phone said,

voice of a father, a concerned father

don’t let the kids go to the school

keep them inside

please keep them inside.

Why, what is wrong? I said

wiping my hands on a

floral towel.

Turn the TV on, just do it

The impatient husband said.

The tower coming down, slowly,

slowly, I see flames

it’s still standing quite firm on the ground.

I flip channels,

the tower is still coming down

a little more with each click

I pause, no more clicking,

just holding my breath I stand

It crashed to the ground, it did.

Like Humpty Dumpty

Smashed to pieces, it did.

What kind of a movie is this?

A moment’s delirium and then

the truth strikes

there are people inside it.

the people, burning flesh, and hair,

and bones, and little smiles from

the desks.

A reporter says there are people

jumping off the building; through

the 29th floor,

wild acts like a animal

running from jungle fire

People, people, a father, a husband

a brother, with voice just like I heard on the telephone

The next plane comes, I see it on

my screen, another slow motion scene

I am numb, no tears yet, they would

come later, when I could know

what happened

The missing plane, we wait,

hope and pray, pray and hope

pray and hope

Pratibha

I was getting ready for school. I looked at the digital clock flashing red on my bedside table. 7:05 AM… Late again. We’re always late to PE because it’s a “0” period. I fixed the lining of my sweats, checked my hair for strays in the mirror, and ran out to the car. My mom and older sister were already waiting in the van and I jumped in the backseat.

Mom glared daggers at me and my sister was doing her make-up in the front seat, grumbling angrily at my mom’s rough driving as she jabbed herself with the eyelash curler.

“Something terrible has happened in New York. Planes crashed into a building” my mom said both scoldingly and with fear.

My sister and I looked at each other and shrugged. Who ever knows what she’s talking about? “Yeah right…” I rolled my eyes, “turn on the radio.”

Instead of the usual upbeat music that wakes us up before heading off to PE, the radio announced, “this is probably one of the worse moments in American history…”

I gaped at my sister who stared back at me with jaws open while the broadcast continued. “What are they saying?!” my mom demanded, unable to understand English when spoken in a fast pace.

It can’t be real… I thought “What did they say?!” screeched my mom in Vietnamese. “I don’t know… I just don’t know…”

I stumbled out of the car awkwardly and walked to class numbly. “Your hair looks good,” Rosa Garcia said to me. But who really cares, does it really matter?

Josephine

Russ: He drove on the freeway, late for work

again, past the air force base on the morning of September 11, 2001.

He was glad there weren’t many motorists on the freeway this morning

and thought nothing of this. He didn’t even really notice that the few cars

that were on the road seemed to sway as if blown by a strong wind,

even though the sky was completely blue and there wasn’t any wind in the sky.

He sighed as he pressed the accelerator of his light fuel-efficient Honda and

stared once more at the giant aircraft hangers that looked black against the rising sun.

Flipping on the radio, he heard muffled voices with British accents,

chirping through the static. “Oh, the BBC,” he thought to himself, with a

nostalgic grin on his lips.

He tuned the radio so the signal became clearer.

“The plane was filled with fuel, heading to the West Coast,”

the British voice said.

Someone had suddenly swerved in front of him and his attention was drawn

away from the radio. His mind slowly began to put strange images together in his

head of some sort of alien invasion similar to that Orson Wells’ broadcast.

“That’s weird,” he said to himself as the broadcasters mentioned

New York, Twin Towers, terrorism. As events locked into clarity with slow precision,

he continued towards work.

Little did he know that every move forward from this moment would

be an alien world to be sorted out by the survivors.

Life was still,

Flame, fire, death, grief

Now we know how it feels

Now we can be humble.

Ian

(Four perspectives: J. & T. in CA, L. in NY, P. in Budapest)

J in CA: The phone rings. Who is calling at this hour? Maybe my mom to ask if Rob

is going to work with my dad.

“Sziz Jenni, mindent jo van?” It was Petra calling from Budapest. I hadn’t spoken to

her in a while.

“Are you okay?” she asks in a panicked voice.

“Yes, I’m fine, why what’s wrong?”

She explains about NY, but I don’t believe it.

I turn on the TV and all I can think of is Linda in NY.

I tell Petra that CA is safe, and I will call her later. I call my mom.

L in NY: The screams are what I hear first. Then smoke. I run to David and we lock eyes.

I know I must remain calm. Grabbing my purse, we take the stairs down 15 flights.

Once out on Wall St. chaos is everywhere. Is this Armageddon?

I stop at an ATM while everyone rushes by. Then I see the second plane hit.

I hadn’t understood what was going on. Now I know. I am so thankful

that my youngest son is at school across the bay. We jump on the train

and go to pick him up. Stopping at the little market by our house, my two

sons and I stock up on food, not knowing how long our life will be in turmoil.

T in CA: As I got off the phone with my daughter, I frantically called my best friend, Linda.

The line was busy. It’s never busy. Her office, cell, and home numbers weren’t working.

I felt so helpless. All I could do was watch the TV and hope to hear that she was okay.

J in CA: I called Lia to see if she had heard from her mom. She said that she had been

asleep and missed the call, but heard the message from her mom. They were safe.
We watched the news as people jumped out of buildings. It was surreal.

How had Linda remained calm? Nothing fazed her.

P in BP: Although Jenni said she’s okay I can’t stop worrying about her.

Just last week she was here visiting. She said she would be in NY for a few days

before returning to CA. Her infant so small, I can’t imagine what I would do if anything

happened to them. What about Lia? Is she in NY with her mom and brother or is

she in CA again? I hope she is okay. I don’t have her #. I will wait until Jenni calls again.

L in CA: I hate NY. I’ve always hated it. I keep telling my mom to move back to CA with my brothers. But she won’t listen. I’m so mad at her I could scream. Only in NY could something this crazy happen. It’s a jungle there. You could get mugged just for wearing earrings. Why can’t she come back to CA where we are safe? Maybe she’ll listen now.

Jen

The telephone rang

before my alarm went off

in my hotel room.

From the “grave” I stuck out my arm and fumbled for the phone.

I picked it up and mumbled.

Just then the familiar voice of my brother spoke.

“John, turn on the TV.”

“What? Why?”

“Terrorists, John, have just hit the trade center.”

The TV clicked on from the remote I found

under my pillow.

“What’re you… holy shit!”

“John … John?”

My eyes are glued to the screen as smoke billowed

from the two towers.

It was a tape—they were playing it

over and over again.

“John, are you there?” my brother asks.

“Yea, I’m watching the report,” I say.

My brother told me all he had found out:

Terrorists

Airplanes

Pentagon, Flight 57, and the World Trade Center were

the targets.

Suddenly my throat went dry and air seemed to

be instantly sucked from my lungs.

I gasped, “Shit, John, shit,” I yelled.

I told him that today I was due to go

to the World Trade Center for a meeting.

“They called me here in Atlanta late last night

to tell me the people I was meeting with needed

to reschedule,” I said.

I gotta call Nora!

I hang up the phone and call my wife.

After our conversation my stomach

churns and my face is beaded with

sweat.

After splashing water on my face I

quickly get dressed and steady myself

downstairs to go for a cup of coffee.

As I step outside, downtown, the

morning sky is bluer than blue and

oddly silent.

Just like my soul, overwhelmed by thankfulness.

Matt

I heard the voice of my sister in my sleep, but tried to ignore it,

(something I’m really good at when it comes to a few more minutes of sleep).

This time it didn’t work though. I sat up and saw my sister standing by my door.

She looked scared. I got up. “Hurry, check it out; we are getting attacked;

It’s crazy!” I ran behind her to the living room and saw a plane crash into the twin towers.

I was in shock. My hand was over my wide opened mouth.

I watched TV for about an hour. I would have watched all day, but I had to go to school.

On my way to school, I drove down Highway 25, a fifteen-minute drive from Hollister to Gilroy.

I still remember how empty the sky looked. President George Bush said all planes

were to remain on the ground. The emptiness of the sky that day I will never forget.

Miriam

Everyone stood, standing in class.

The TV was on, but I only noticed it when I sat down.

One of the twin towers was on fire.

That’s a shame.

I never heard of the World Trade Center before,

and after seeing my teacher’s face,

I knew I was missing something.

People took a plane

killed themselves and everyone else

… why? It made no sense.

My godfather lived in New York City at the time.

I was sure he was okay.

Then the other tower got hit.

And then one tower fell; was that the order?

Holy shit… I blocked that out fast.

… I should be scared.

It was like seeing a movie. You see this kind of thing all the time.

I guess I was desensitized to seeing a building on fire,

not giving a thought to anyone inside.

Well, at the time they, the news reporters,

they said nothing about those who jumped.

School that day stopped. Everything stopped.

And two things came to my mind that day

after I got home.

And I’m sorry, a little, that I thought about these:

Let’s nuke them!

Let’s nuke them now!

makes no sense… what they did.

what I thought.

John

I didn’t have a care in the world that day—

I bounded down the stairs and into my mom’s waiting Subaru.

As I opened the door and climbed in, I said, “Mom, I was…”

“Shhh!” she said and she turned up the radio.

When I stopped to listen, all I heard was panic.

I was confused, unsure, scared to ask my mother

what was going on for fear of being shushed again.

By the time the short ride to school ended,

I had gotten the gist: planes had hit the twin towers,

a place I had stood less than 2 months before.

Mom and I sat in silence for a long while.

At last she turned to me and said,

“Kaitlin, I remember where I was and what I was doing

when I heard Kennedy had been shot. And this Kaitlin, is your

generation’s Kennedy.”

I got out of the car. I was nervous—

never had I seen my mother like this. I

descended the stairs into a school that

housed 2800 high school kids, and the only

thing that greeted me there on that

crisp fall morning on September 11,2001

was silence.

Kaitlin

This is a joke, right?

a plane crashing into a building?

Suddenly I’m not so interested in breakfast today

My eye glued to the tube.

My hands mechanically empty the bowl into my mouth

Every channel I check, same thing.

No one knows what’s going on.

I want to know more, but I have to go to school.

When I do, I can’t but help ask strangers

what they heard, if they know,

but no one does

and school is starting

so, we stop wondering.

Strange announcement, a strained trembling voice,

announces that school will continue despite what is happening

What? What is happening?

Planes and buildings that’s all I know.

I suspect teachers have some idea

But no one wants to talk about it.

Oblivious, that’s what I am

That’s what they wanted

When I get home all I see

or hear is what I wanted

to know people driving planes into buildings

on purpose

But still I wasn’t told the last thing I wondered:

Why?

Chris

As we get the call the guys are rumbling and hollering about terrorists.

Can’t turn on the TV, gotta get dressed, gotta get to the scene.

As I ride to the scene, it’s all clear; the towers are on fire.

My mind wants to rationalize, but I’ve been trained to act and do my job.

I want to make sense of all this, but I can’t (man, what happened?).

I look around, this is different, it is not the fires I’ve seen before.

These are fires of war, fires of hate, and fires of terror.

My body is tense, more than usual as I realize I may not make

it home from this one, but it’s my job.

These people need me, this city needs me, and my country needs me.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before applying the mask

--it’s time to go…

For the first time, all my training, all my knowledge and experience do not match this…

An old man looks around at me in hope and approval;

he gives a nod as I move forward.

I look at him and give him a return nod that lets him know

I’m here and I’m going to fix things…I promise.

Jason

I had just left the mists

of rumors

that had engulfed our school.

Here and there I had heard

reports of some disaster

back east.

Nothing was concrete,

nothing was for certain.

I entered the house and turned

to the TV,

all channels looping the same footage.

I watched for a while

and then heard naught

but old news.

I flipped it off.

Watching planes continually fly

into towers

helped no one.

Flags appeared everywhere,

on the fronts of cars,

hanging from houses.

It was a if a flood of pride

washed in.

It dried up just as quick.

Russ