*sqeeeeeee* i'm BACK!
though i never really left in the first place...
------------------------------
“We had always known the power of human hate But what happened that day We could never anticipate Two killer birds By devils pact they’re sworn Powerful pillars plummet 1000 angels born Death had a second call The Pentagon ignites Another bird achieves its goal Of suicidal flight Four dark eagles Three now dead One still flying on ghastly wings A bounty upon its head Yet the final suicide Was poisoned from the inside The final target safe But no heroes survive Burning buildings crumble Lives forever lost I shall never forget this day When we all paid the cost.”
-Anonymous
You’re running. Faster and faster, away from the ghastly white plumes of smoke. But lucky for you, it’s right on your heel, like a game of follow the leader. No, you explain to the white fog, this is not a game of follow the leader. It’s a game of tag, which means you run the other way. But there’s no use talking to the air, for doesn’t oblige to your willing, instead, doing quite the opposite. The smoke catches up to you, enclosing and in mummy-like style, wrapping itself around your slime body frame. You gasp for a breath of oxygen, but the fog dives into your open mouth overjoyed that it’s finally found its opportunity.
But you’re stronger than that. Taking hold of the railing located to your right, you slowly lift yourself up into an upright stance, quickly falling back into your sprawled out starting position. Grasping onto what’s left of your soul, you shimmy your legs down the steps. After one, two, three, five, what is that now, 8 steps?, you collapse in a heap onto the cold linoleum floors. As you’re slowly being pulled into a swirling black darkness, you hear footsteps approaching. And that’s when your mind goes blank.
---
Lights. That’s the first thing that hits your face when your pupils are unveiled from the eye’s lids.
Carts rolling. That’s the first thing you hear when your ears are unplugged from their temporary headphones.
A beep, beep, beep noise sounds from the machine beside you, and you take this time to scan the space.
Looking around, you see people dressed in button-down lab coats and white attire.
This must be a hospital, you conclude.
A voice from the television interrupts you from your momentary delusions.
“It has been exactly 1 week since the terrorist attack in which two planes crashed into the World Trade Center. Speculation of how many lives lost is roughly 2000 and counting. On the other hand, the count of missing people is overwhelming…”
A tear creeps down your face as the memory of it all flushes back, consuming your body as a whole.
Doctors and nurses are rushing towards you now, words rolling off their tongues in record speed.
“Oh my gosh, she’s alive!”
“I knew she would be a fighter!”
“Congratulations! Now let me run a couple of tests…”
But how can you be happy, when you know that over 2000 people have been deceased in an attack you were a victim of? How can your heart stop its erratic beats when you’ve been permanently scarred for life? And then the reality of the situation hits you smack center on the forehead: never would you really, truly, be YOU, again.
No comments:
Post a Comment