9/11 Readers Theatre
I was lying in bed, with my bedroom door
slightly open—
half asleep, half
awake.
From a distance, I could hear the news
penetrating through my walls—
it must be Mom
awake, I thought.
She was always the first up, catching the
morning news.
I'd have to get up soon for school, and be ready
by 8:00 a.m.
As I woke up and made my way down the hall to
the living room,
I could see my mom glued to the television. As she saw me, her words
filled
with worry. "Jessica, they crashed into the towers!"
I looked on with disbelief, as the television
screen was projecting
this horrific
image. There were just questions
filling my head –
Why? How? Who crashed into the towers in New
York?
I remember feeling a deep sadness and sympathy
for those in New York
and those on the
plane. The second plane hadn't hit
yet – it wouldn't be
till I came home
from school that the gruesome images would be
played
over and over on TV networks and in the collective conscience of America.
I remember, as I stepped on my school campus,
examining students around me
to see if their
faces were showing any signs of wrong or reflection of what
happened. Did they know? What are they thinking?
None of my teachers spoke about it that
day. I think we all wanted it to
be
a terrible
nightmare we'd wake up from.
Jessica
S.
I woke up September 11, 2001, early
because
my mother turned on the news
and the world I
knew, before, changed.
Well the world I thought I know.
A dark bubble in my throat
I saw
a plane, a plane
crashing
crashing
into two tall
buildings. They
were burning
and falling.
People,
people,
falling!
Falling!
I sat speechless
I thought of children
of mothers
of fathers
of brothers,
sisters, cousins,
of wives
The world is a dark place
dark, a wasteland
My sister comes over, my mother, my
nephews.
Oh! the people. My people.
Paula
L.
On September 11, 2001
asleep
in bed, maybe awake, I might be late for work,
but my bed is too
warm and comfortable.
"Dude, we're under attack! Terrorists have
bombed our shit!"
Randy barges in my door yelling.
I am too tired for another one of his practical
jokes – he always pulls this stuff.
"Shut up!" I pull one pillow over my head.
"I'm not playing this time," he says as he turns
on my TV. "Look it's on the news."
The TV is too loud, I ignore what it's
saying. I throw another
pillow
at him as I say "and turn that off on the way out."
He laughs and leaves my room, without turning
the TV off.
I drift back to sleep.
I wake up at noon and hear the TV.
John
W.
I woke up at the age of twelve to words emerging
from an alarm clock
that will be stuck
in my head until the day I die. As
I went in to tell my parents,
they simply said
that I must have been dreaming and they had no idea about the
crazy
event I was talking about.
Then they turned on the TV, and there it was,
the first tower burning at the top.
The voices emerging from the television set
contained a sense of suspicion and uncertainty.
It was not until the second tower was hit
moments later that the voice of suspicion
changed
to fear.
Something emerged out of the building, stories
high from the gates of heaven.
That something was a body.
Make that two bodies. Make that � dead bodies.
No parachutes or small pop-up planes to carry
them to safety.
Simply a long fall ahead with no chance of
living. They knew their fate with
the collapsing
building
disappearing out from beneath them.
They chose a flight of blissful descent over
burning
to death and being crushed beneath stories of metal. Maybe they thought that
during
their fall they would emerge from fear into an overwhelming sensation of
weightlessness.
Julia
A.
It was dark in my room
The red numbers told me it was 6:30 a.m.
My mother rushed in talking of
crashed
planes and burning buildings
I'm too tired for this make-believe
I drag myself out of bed to get breakfast and
instantly
stop as I see the flames and smoke on the television
Helicopters, fire engines, and flashing lights
come on screen
as the second
plane crashes into the twin buildings
The fire and smoke consume the twin towers
and they plummet
to their death
taking
thousands with them to their grave of
dust and rubble
Some jump, some burn, some are crushed
others
boarded an aircraft destined for Heaven
Thousands die
And billions vow to never let their
deaths
be in vain
Alexis
G.
Mom was sitting on the couch, watching the TV.
I didn't have time to look; I was on my way to
school.
But then, I soon saw it
Every classroom had a TV. I saw it, too.
First, from Mr. Edward's Economics class.
The principal even spoke to us from her
office,
from the intercom.
By the time lunch period arrived,
my friends and I
had to find Nicola.
She was still friends
with Marie.
I was friends with Marie's
brother, Chris.
She graduated two years before.
They told us she was safe.
Marie was an intern in Tower Two.
It was her day off
on September 11,
2001.
Kyle
Y.
Turn on the TV they said.
My TV is always on in the morning.
On 9/11/01 it wasn't
I turned it on and saw one building
Burning.
A building I recognized as one of
New York's Twin Towers
A building my brother had visited
went to the top of.
They said that people were leaping
to their deaths.
People were trapped inside.
One of the buildings kept burning.
Then the second plane hit.
Two buildings
Minutes passed and the buildings fell
just like that.
I sat quietly on the couch
And I stared. Just stared
at the TV and
Peter Jennings.
9/11 made Peter Jennings start
smoking again.
He died of lung cancer.
I guess 9/11 killed him too.
Rigo C.
I wake
What on earth?
He has the radio on and loud! (My brother who
lives with me)
UGH
I shower and get ready to go.
It is 6:15 a.m. I am at the cleaners.
I have PT (Physical Therapy) at 7:00 a.m.
I am on the West Coast.
I come from the cleaners and the
cell phone is
beeping; I have a message.
At this hour?
The message "Frances, where are you?" from Daddy
I call back; it is my father
"Daddy, I'm in L.A.; I got back from Boston last
night late.
There was no good reason to try and come back
this morning."
There is a sigh and my father's voice
gives
away his enormous amount of relief.
"I have to call your mom. She's in Atlanta at my sister's. She is ok."
On the radio (NPR) as I drive to the physical
therapy at the hospital:
"They have closed all airports"
A national state of emergency not seen
since WWII and Pearl Harbor.
My father's relief comes from the fact that I
had been in Boston
on my way back
from Maine.
I had chosen not to stay and had flown back on
Monday night, on
American Airlines.
It was not my time; I was not
supposed
to be on the airplane.
I was safe. I listened to the angels and
I was fine.
Later I would remember walking passed
that man who stared
at me, evil
in his face. My mother and I were
at the Providence
Airport in Maine.
Los Angeles was empty. I had gone to
PT and then to work only to head home
again. There was such heaviness in the
country.
Frances
M.
On September 11, I was still working in customer
service.
It felt like a normal day. I remember going to work and
noticing
how quiet it was. Everyone was
glued to their computer, watching the coverage.
When I first saw the footage out of the corner
of my eye,
saw the first
plane hit the building, it seemed so unreal;
it was like
watching a scene from a movie—it couldn't really be happening.
Once I got to my desk, I saw my co-workers
clustered around one terminal.
Then
I realized. This is real.
This is news.
I didn't react like many of the others, once we
got over the shock, that is.
My first thought was, "Well someone's finally
done it. Someone's finally broken
through
this bright shiny
bubble of insulation we call the U. S.
No more complacency now." I was amazed at how
quickly
it united everyone. The next day,
everyone had a red-white-blue ribbon or sticker on their
car—even me—and I am not a patriot.
It all seemed so far away, even as it was
happening.
Although I grieved for the victims and their
families, I couldn't help but feel removed from it all.
I didn't think I knew anyone involved. I was wrong.
My friend Gina told me later that she had a
close friend working in the Twin Towers;
I had met this girl on occasion, but I couldn't
remember her face.
Later, Gina flew to New York, attended the
Memorial.
Her grief infected me, made it real. It's strange,
isn't
it, grieving for a girl I can barely remember,
but after that I
could see the faces of the dead.
Tanya
N.
Al Qaeda did this?
I can't even spell their name.
What a mess.
All day I watched the coverage in third period
biology
None of us knew anyone from NYC
"But it will be our blood
which
will be spilled in retaliation."
Surely the war will be over in
three
years.
Chris
M.
I saw it just briefly on the news
that morning.
A plane crash – crazy –
I thought.
I couldn't wait to get to school
to tell my
friends.
But then,
I was only eighteen,
a freshman in
college,
and I didn't
really have a clue.
When I got to campus
everyone
was abuzz
but none of us
really understood
the severity,
the world-changing
impact
of that day.
Because we were only eighteen,
all freshmen in
college,
and none of us
really had a clue at that moment.
But when we got home soon after
because
the campus had been shut down
and we watched it
on the television
we finally began
to understand
and now we
finally knew.
Marina
S.
A violently pink
shirt.
Mr. Blaine's 8th grade classroom
"Did you see the news this morning?"
Natalie asked.
"It's bad," Bryan Kip said
knowingly,
his eyes wide,
eyebrows
pushing their
way up his
forehead.
What had I missed?
Even Candi in her
fluorescent pink
shirt,
stretchy and shimmering with little
peaks
of fabric all over
the place, even Candi
seemed
to know.
When Mr. Blaine turned on
the TV I watched
video
footage of a building bleeding smoke
I must not be the only one who hadn't known.
No one who knew this was happening
would
wear a violently pink shirt.
Jackie
S.
Erin called me when she woke up and saw the news
report, but
Alex had already called and woke me up a half
hour earlier.
Erin was worried, her
mom said nobody knew what would come next.
She went to school,
Not for long though.
All the students claimed they were too
afraid
to stay, or
something
(Not the whole truth – they gathered in
the main hallway, waiting for rides, chattering, like it was a surprise
holiday, or the power had gone out and class-simply couldn't go on.)
We watched news all day long
A friend had relatives in New York,
none were hurt.
I think some of the drama was fun for people
because
it was so far from us.
But the fear was real, too.
Erin
L.
I'm so nervous. They're going to catch me.
This isn't going to work. I have to.
I have no choice. It is my destiny
and it must be
done.
They will see our power
They will cry and curse this day forever.
It has to be done.
For my country.
For my people.
In the name of God, this will be done.
It will be another ordinary day
and then their
world will come crashing
down just like mine
has.
None of this will be in vain.
I sacrifice myself for you.
Monique
C.
Deidre: I finally submitted all of my stories.
What
a relief!
Wow,
there are so many people crowded near
the window. I
wonder what they're looking at?
Businessman: What a morning. I hope I don't have a
parking
ticket from the garage this morning
all because my wife slipped in the shower.
I'm
really hoping my mother can pick Sarah
up today from school.
The
floor shakes.
Deidre: What on earth was that?!
Why
are people screaming?
Everyone
is on their phones. Hm
Businessman: The building. We've been hit.
But by what?
Deidre: I'm sweating. I need to leave.
I
need to leave now.
42 floors up.
This
is going to be a long exit.
I'm
just praying for an exit.
Businessman: My wife.
She
needs to call the school.
And
get Sarah out.
I
need to get out.
What
about all those people above me?
God,
I hope everyone gets out.
Briana
B.
I really didn't mean to be callous
or unconcerned
but there I was
– in my office, stressing
over being ready
for my 11:00 freshman comp class.
When Gayle came to the door, I turned from
my computer
heard
her say something about a plane and
the World Trade
Center.
Where was the World Trade Center?
A few minutes later, Sandra came to my door;
she too, relayed
more details about New York.
I gathered books, headed over to the computer
classroom
where my class was meeting.
The previous professor had left the LCD
projector on
and CNN was
playing.
My students came in, immediately shifting their
attention
to the scenes of
disaster displayed.
We watched as a second plane hit,
as the
Towers crumbled,
as people jumped
to their deaths.
One of my students left in tears – her
father
was at the Pentagon.
Dr.
Warner
It was a week or so later. I was watching
morning
television.
The husband was talking about his wife
and his little
girl.
"She was five years old," he said. "It was her first trip
to
Disneyland. They were meeting my
wife's best friend
in California. She was on the other plane."
A month later we were in Disneyland.
The weather was perfect – California is so
beautiful
in October. There were very few
people
in the park and no lines at the rides.
We had fun. We saw a lot of security.
We felt safe.
I thought about that little girl.
Debra
H.
September 10th: my dad showed me our
new jet ski.
We went out to ride it at the Delta.
I didn't do my homework, so I decided to wake up
early the
next morning to do
it.
History, my least favorite.
I'm 11 years old.
September 11th: I wake up earlier
than normal to start my homework.
Daddy runs in.
"Ana," he says, "come here. You have to see something!"
I jump up almost immediately, expecting to see
two jet skis
in our garage
instead of just one.
But he leads me to the television.
Is that a factory? I think to myself as I see
smoke
Billowing on the screen.
"It's the World Trade Center," he tells me, as
if reading my mind.
I'm scared, but he takes me to school anyway.
We have a special assembly at the Christian,
ultra-
Conservative school I attend.
"you all are witnessing
the end of the world," one of my teachers says.
Is that supposed to make me feel better?
Ana
A.
Too early for a phone call – 7:30. Out late the night
before. "There's bad news," my mom said. "Terrorists flew a
plane
into the World Trade Center in New York."
"That's
terrible,"
I said, and hung up the phone and went back
to sleep. Two hours later, awake again. I turned
on the news,
still in bed, just in time to see
a replay of the
second plane colliding, all smoke and
sirens
and debris. Another video: two
figures, hands joined,
jumping
from one of the towers. I turned
off the TV. My
roommate
was in tears in the living room.
Outside, the world was going on as usual, it
seemed. I crossed the highway, then the train
tracks on my
way to
school. Had anyone heard? Did anyone know the
impact,
the magnitude, the implications? I
had never seen
anyone
wringing her hands before.
Professor Trechter was. "My
brother
is in New York." She kept
repeating, "My brother."
The classroom phone rang: classes were
cancelled. The
university
was close, that day and the next.
We all went home.
I couldn't turn the TV back on. I wanted to know,
but not by
myself. I walked to my friend's
apartment,
where
people – friends and neighbors and classmates—
were packed into
his living room. Together, we watched.
No
one spoke.
I called my mom back that afternoon. I wanted to hear
her voice again.
Beth
K-H.
I'm pressing the buttons
on my cell phone
–
oh God, let me
get through.
My hands are shaking.
I'm going to vomit.
Is this really happening?
My death – it's here. I'm not ready.
There's no turning back
no waking up from a bad dream.
It's ringing
I hear his voice
the voice I've heard so many nights
as we made love
never again
Oh
God – never again?
"They've hijacked the plane," I ramble.
"Honey, I love you! Don't forget me. Don't forget
that I love you
forever. I know this may
sound
strange, but promise me you'll love
again. Don't give the hijackers any power.
Love AGAIN!"
The phone drops from my hand as the nose of
the plane dips
forward.
I hit my head on the seat in front of me.
"Oh God," I whisper,
Then –
nothing more – nothing more.
Ellen
J.
The teacher began our high school computer class
with the
words,
"the twin towers have been destroyed, and so has
the pentagon."
Silence.
Confusion.
Someone says, "Does this mean we have to go
home?"
We work on filing out the worksheet. We are zombies,
just moving, not
thinking.
The math teacher turns on the TV. "When I was a child,"
she says, "Kennedy
was shot. I can still picture that
day.
It's unforgettable. You will remember this day forever."
My hand is shaking, my lips trembling.
I can't finish the square root equations.
On the news, papers are flying everywhere, like
flags
urging
peace. People wave handkerchiefs
out of
windows
on the top floors. I think of people
from
the olden days
boarding steam-liners. People who
will
never
be seen again.
Where is God on this day?
I come home grateful that it wasn't us
there. Then, I
feel sickened. I feel selfish and shameful that
I'm happy to be alive.
My interview at Hallmark has been
cancelled. It doesn't
matter.
I wouldn't have been able to smile at those
cheerful
cards anyway.
Huma S.
I remember the day
pretty
clearly.
I woke up at about 6:30 or 7:00 and was
getting
ready for school.
I turned on the TV and the first thing I
see is building
ablaze.
Replay, replay, replay.
The shot of the plane
crashing
kept repeating.
I remember thinking,
"I'm going to remember this day forever."
I did not have any relatives in the towers,
No friends of the family.
But I felt for those who woke up thinking,
"Today is going to be an ordinary day."
They had no idea they would be
the bystanders in
someone's plot for revenge.
I remember everyone in school was talking about
it.
The principal got on the intercom and asked for
a moment of
silence.
Nobody knew who did it.
That day the Palestinians were possible
suspects.
To mark the day, I simply put
"Twin Tower crash"
in my agenda on
September 11, 2001.
I cannot imagine what sort of
hysterical
moments, emotional breakdowns, and
anger
marked the day for those
who lost somebody
that day.
Melissa
G.
Seventh grade picture day.
I got up early to have my friend
fix my hair.
got on the bus to
school.
Something was on the radio about
something
happening in New York
but nobody seemed
to know what.
Got my picture taken and
took an English test.
Boy, was that test hard.
All the students were called out
of class and sent
to the cafeteria.
We have to leave school for today—
my principal told
us.
Something about us being on a
naval
base wasn't safe.
So, our parents came and
tried
to explain what happened.
I still don't understand it.
Airean B.
We pick Elizabeth up at 6:45.
We have jazz band before school.
I hate junior high.
But I love jazz band.
Did you read the paper? Liz asks me.
What kid does?
Especially at 6 in the morning.
Except the comics, maybe.
The baby elephant at the zoo was finally born!
Liz informs me.
Elizabeth loves animals.
After band, kids pour in for school to start.
The buzz seems louder today.
Buzz about a world trade center.
Whatever
that is.
Buzz about terrorism.
Whatever
that means.
Buzz about school being let out.
My
ears perk.
Did you hear the news? Miranda asks me.
You mean about the elephant?
Rebecca
M.
Turning on the television is like turning on the
radio,
noise
to fill the room while I go about my routine.
Prepare breakfast,
gather my lesson materials,
stop to hear the
weather report
put on my shirt,
pick up my keys,
leave.
Only this time, the voices are unusually
serious.
From the other room came only occasional voices,
not the usual
chatter, light and lively, unimportant.
Down in the kitchen, I begin to leave,
reach
for the remote to turn off the box
and stop.
I see the image—
a tower smoking,
confusion
from the reporters,
firemen
rushing to the scene,
replays.
I sit on the couch.
Work can wait.
As I take it all in, absorbing the story,
I say a prayer for the people trapped, the
rescuers,
and their
families.
15 minutes pass (I think) and I stand to leave
and see that second
plane pierce that second tower.
I sit.
I call Frances because I can't be alone with
this.
When I finally leave
I feel shock, sadness, anger, sorrow, grief.
I feel American.
Daniel
P.
Where were you? I was at home, listening to the
9.49 morning show, getting ready for school.
I was a sophomore. Instead of hearing my favorite radio d.j. making
his infamous prank calls,
I was startled to find his voice so serious.
There were no prank calls, and no music played.
The d.j. spoke of planes and towers and terrorists.
I listened for a few minutes. Still not sure
what to think,
I went in my mom's room and without
saying a word, I turned on her
TV and stared at her, waiting for her reaction
that would
determine my next move.
I arrived at school and was met with mixed
reactions from students and teachers.
Some students appeared stoic, while others
angry.
I carried on to my first period knowing it was
going to be a long day.
My English teacher, Mr. Awaad,
started in right away
blatantly
scolding us for talking about
the attacks. He allowed his emotions to get the
better
of him and carried on for 30 minutes
about
Muslims and Palestinians being blamed
for
everything. He finally stopped,
warned us
about
bringing it up again, and told us to
read silently for
the rest of the period. I can't
remember
the book we read, probably because I wasn't reading that day.
Drained, I passed to my second period history
class and
sought
solitude from my beloved Mr. Lunceford.
He called it history in the making, played the
news,
and answered any
and all questions he could to the best of his knowledge.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I find myself vividly remembering where
I was when I first heard about the attacks,
and my heightened
awareness fades as time progresses.
Monica
S.
My dad tells me a plane has crashed
into the world
trade center.
What's the world trade center? I asked.
It's a building in New York, he replied.
Oh, ok, I said casually.
I did not understand the severity
of the situation
at the time.
I ran it over in my head on the way to school.
An airplane filled with passengers crashed into
a building.
All of those people in the airplane are
dead. That's sad.
I go to my homeroom class and everyone is
talking
about the plane crash in New York.
I go into Mr. Strand's history class, we all
watch in
horror
as another airplane crashes into the building. I have never seen
a teacher look
so helpless or fearful.
Now it hits me. This is serious. Soon I learned
of another crash
into the pentagon.
I have no idea what the pentagon is. We are being attacked,
I realize.
Our teachers try their best to carry out the rest of the day, but
every
time I write 9/11/01 on a paper, I know
this was no
ordinary day.
Jena
B.
I awoke to find my parents standing before the
television.
I looked and saw something burning on the TV,
but couldn't tell what it was.
My parents could not explain it to me, for they
were unsure themselves about what
had happened and
told me to be quiet as they were trying to listen.
I went on with my morning as usual, and my
father drove me to the junior high shortly after.
It was when I got to school and gathered at the
front with my friends
that I learned that
New York had been attacked. I
can't recall if
my friends
mentioned the planes hitting the towers.
New York was foreign to me,
but attack had all
sorts of connotations.
I didn't know it was the work of terrorists yet.
When I got to my first class, my teacher had the
radio on, and I learned the truth.
At break a moment of silence was held, and we
all stood on the asphalt. It was
eerily silent.
It was then I felt connected to those people
hundreds of miles away, people
who had lost their
husbands or wives or fathers or mothers or brothers or sisters or lovers.
I thought of how different the morning they'd
awoken to was from mine,
which
was one of relative calm. The
attack had happened before I'd awaken,
while
I was sleeping peacefully,
probably dreaming of things like
my cat, food, or
buying a new pair of pants.
April
S.
"A national disaster" my mom called it. She woke me up early before school,
and we watched the
news. But not
for long. The towers were
nowhere
near my
school. I saw no smoke, heard no
screams,
breathed
no ash, felt no fear. So I went to
school.
Damn.
But the day would be interesting. I grabbed a walkman
and left for school. An excuse
to listen to the
radio all day through classes.
People asked me for updates.
Two planes hit. Seven planes. Five planes. The Pentagon was destroyed.
No, four planes. Back to
seven.
Nothing changed. There was no terror at my school. I saw no fear, only curiosity.
The only panic came from a retarded boy who
cried because he thought the school
would
blow up or his mom was dead. Or something.
Ryan
H.
The phone rang. I was already up getting
ready
for school so I answered it.
"Hello?" It was my aunt.
"Are you watching TV," she asked.
"No, why?" I said.
"Turn it on." I couldn't find a single channel
that didn't have
the arresting images of
the smoking towers.
"Boys a few years older than you will be going
to war, Alyssa. The world has
changed," she said.
Those words echoed in my ears. "The world has changed."
The world has changed, and I already can't
remember how it was before her phone call.
Alyssa
B.
It was like a scene out of a movie
planes
crashing into skyscrapers
buildings
that defied gravity
going
up in flames
filling
the air with smoke
falling,
falling, falling
until
they were no more.
I don't know if it was because my mom
woke me up so early
to see this
Or if it was because the idea of this
seemed
so surreal
but I couldn't
believe it,
didn't
want to believe it.
Why is this happening?
What have those people done,
what have we done
to deserve this?
I remember staring in disbelief
as people flung
themselves from the towers
somehow
thinking
somehow
believing
that that was
better than dying from a building collapsing.
And I couldn't help but wonder
would
I have done that?
Would I have been strong enough
to take my own
life?
Or would I have
surrendered
to the crushing steel
the smothering
smoke
and let whatever
happens, happen?
The men and women who went racing
up and up
trying
desperately to save others
who felt it was
their duty
who didn't think
twice about themselves.
They became heroes in my eyes.
Heroes more real
and true
and brave
than any Batman or
Superman.
They were flesh and blood
people
with hopes and dreams and families
yet they gave that
all up for others.
Terrorists may have tested our strength
but in return we
figured just how strong we could be..
Melissa
M.
I stared at him like I've never done before.
My mind was racing, mouth sealed shut.
What was he thinking?
His eyes were open but could he see?
See that car in front of him that he stared at�
The car that was so close and becoming nearer.
I wanted to scream "STOP!!!"
But I didn't – I said nothing, just stared.
And then it happened.
BANG! We rammed into the back of that car in
front of us.
We were only moving about 5 mph, but the
sound
from the impact mimicked the sound
from a firearm in a
movie.
I have never been that scared before.
Seeing what would happen before it did,
wanting
to prevent it but becoming mute.
At that moment, I knew how the deer in
headlights felt.
We exchanged information with the lady we hit.
Her face a blur� her voice unheard.
After the accident we moved forward.
She went to work,
we went to school.
My brother and me�still shocked, still mute.
I got to class early,
the television was on.
Was my teacher watching a movie?
Looked like the news..
Buildings falling, planes crashed,
people
crying.
What movie was this?
An announcement from the principal over the PA
system–
Terrorist attack, NY –
This was no movie,
it was reality.
Years later I would learn what caused
the crash my
brother and I had.
He was spaced out because he knew of the
attack
before we left. He saw it on TV.
He knew and was scared because he had just
joined the Air Force
and would leave
for boot camp soon after the attack.
That BANG! would be the
first of many he would hear thereafter.
Kristian R.
What could a twenty-three-year-old man
know of courage?
Roused by his mother
at a leisurely
eight-thirty in
the morning.
His hair messed up
and eyes groggy
with
the improbable
news.
What, indeed?
Erik
O.
On the day of September 11th
I went to school
unaware
of the destruction going on somewhere else.
I greeted my friends before class and it was
then
that I found out
about what had occurred.
I took it as passing gossip not thinking much
about it,
until
I sat down in social studies class and my teacher
played
for us the video clip of the plane barreling into
the twin towers.
It looked like a scene from a movie, the way the
towers fell
as if right on
the director's cue.
She also spun a story for us about the
passengers on
the plane who knew
they were being hijacked and said their
final
farewells to their loved ones.
It still didn't come as a shock to me.
It wasn't until I heard a song, one of my
favorites
on my friends MP3
player.
The maker had taken out the voices and left the
melody.
Then came a tiny voice of a child, speaking
about her feelings.
Her story to her father who was lost in the
crash came
through
the tears she was trying to hold back.
It was like someone broke a dam inside of me and all
my tears came out
for this girl and the other families.
Carol
C.