I’m Not a Hero
I wish they survived, but they did not. I was a spectator, helpless but full of survivor’s guilt.
September 11, 2001
Mike’s Account: I’m going to work today, excited because I was promoted just 1 week ago. I do not like the city much, I’m more of the suburban kind. The streets are filthy and loud to me.There is garbage everywhere and I smell urine. I’m covering my nose but it doesn’t really help. I look at my watch. “Shoot!” I have 10 minutes to get to work! I must be lucky today because a cab dropped somebody off just ahead of me. “Taxi!” The driver looked at me, got back in the car, and waited. I start running to the cab. The driver sits there, staring straight ahead with a disappointed look. “He probably hates his job,” I’m thinking as I get in the car. He pulls away from the curb and starts driving. He’s a good driver. He got me there in 3 minutes. I’m in the elevator and jamming the 4th floor button. The elevator is slow to start, so I start repeatedly hitting the button, thinking it will help.
I’m right on time. I rush over to my desk and start moving everything in my bag onto the desk. I open the laptop and start working. This is going to be a long day.
I’m taking a break right now. I turn around from my desk and look out the huge window. I think I see an airplane. Not interesting. I look at the ground. Nothing interesting. I look at my watch. 8: 44. “I guess I’ll get back to work,” I muttered, hoping for something, anything to happen. “This promotion isn’t as great as I thought yesterday. I looked out the window again. The airplane was closer now, at a downwards angle. “That’s odd,” I kept on watching. 8:45. I started running towards the elevator. I had to warn them. I went to the 12th floor, as far as I was willing to go. Everybody was working diligently, so they didn’t look out the window. “Emergency! Get out of the building right now!” I saw how close the plane was and rephrased. “Get to cover!” I ran and ducked under a desk. The plane wasn’t going to hit our floor, but it seemed close.
8:45, Adam’s Account, 57th floor.
I saw the plane and new that all I could do was warn them. I told them to run down the stairs. I myself am not. The plane is right there now. I hope I’ve left a good impression in my life.
A big explosion became one of the biggest events in American History. And they all died.
1st Floor, My Account 8:46
The only reason I survived was because I arrived late. I didn’t try to help. I just ran. They said I was a hero for surviving. I don’t see how.
Murder at Midnight
At dawn on the sixteenth of April, the Princess Rosalie was on its maiden voyage. A bottle of champagne broken on the bow signifying its departure with a crew of professional sailors to ensure its arrival to port.
However, one woman sought to change the fate of the ship. With a dagger by her side and a vendetta in her mind, she was a stow away. Two nights in, she donned a dark cloak and a billowy white blouse to carry out her plan of attack. The captain’s quarters were barred, but the lock was easily picked by her nimble fingers. A thin, even slice to the throat by a steady hand was all it took for the brute to fall into a different sleep, one he would never wake from. A sleep his wife had put him in.
She made her way around the vessel, her flowing chestnut locks bathed in moonbeams flowing from the night sky. The sailors were sleepy and caught by surprise. Needless to say, they all died.