9/10 Quickie--Member's Choice

iVillage Member
Registered: 12-12-2003
9/10 Quickie--Member's Choice
34
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 11:23am

I love Maddalena's exercise suggestion, which is getting buried in the Fun and Games folder, but I realize fantasy may not be everyone's cup of tea.

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iVillage Member
Registered: 03-20-2003
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 8:47pm

I was on my way to work when the first plane hit.

iVillage Member
Registered: 07-27-2003
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 8:57pm
Relaxed I sat on the beige tweed sofa in the family room. Just a few minutes of relaxation, I thought, before I attack the multitude of never-ending laundry. The quietness of the house seemed soothing after running around like a drill sergeant demanding that my children hurry so that they didn't miss the bus.

I thought about turning on the television a moment, but decided just to lie back in solitude with my cup of freshly brewed coffee. A list of to-do errands briefly flickered through my mind, but the strident ring of the telephone interrupted my thoughts. I picked up the receiver and heard my husand's voice. "I'm on my way to New York, but the towers have been hit by a plane; turn on the television. I hope this doesn't make me late for my meeting. I'm a few cars before the Verrazano Bridge. Have to go. Love you."

I flicked on the television just in time to see the second plane crash into the tower and the building alight with flame. Newscasters anxiously reported workers jumping out windows to their deaths. Minutes later I called back my husband. The bridge had closed two cars before him. He wouldn't be going to his meeting after all.


iVillage Member
Registered: 06-02-2003
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 9:42pm
Lynda,

Thanks for the heads up on mr's post. I had not seen it as it, indeed, was buried down at the bottom of the page. I found myself instantly drawn to the possibilities and began right away to write. Before I knew it, the following story had unfolded on the screen. So, just in case you don't get to the bottom of the WEB screen, this is what happened ... flash fiction in under three minutes! Thanks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I am currently writing this from the offices of a local church. My home has been overrun by dozens of civil and parochial investigators.

It all started last night when I decided to rearrange my bedroom to accomplish the two fold task of cleaning and creating more space. Imagine my surprise, when I moved the bed, to find that the boards beneath appeared to be unstable, insubstantial, even holographic. They appeared solid enough but, when I dropped a shoe on the floor there, it vanished right through the boards.

Now I know when I put the bed there those boards were solid. Believe me, I would remember stepping THROUGH them! Just around midnight, I finished up and I tried to go to sleep but, with the house enveloped in darkness, I began to hear noises the likes of which I have never heard before. People screaming and crying. Moaning so pathetic it gave me chills. I reached to turn on my bedside lamp to investigate the source of the noises and my hand froze millimeters from the switch. There, on the far side of the room, those damned boards seemed to be glowing. The area seemed larger and a slight mist seemed to hover over the area. A chill ran through me from head to toe. My body shuddered violently.

Leaving the lights out, I climbed out of bed and moved closer to the anomaly. Half way there my footsteps froze as I began to understand what was happening. When I finally found the strength to move, I ran. I ran out of the house in my barefeet, wearing nothing more than scanty underpants and a hockey jersey. I ran until I couldn't run anymore.

The police found me wailing and babbling incoherently about an hour later and drove me to the church where they took me in for the night. They tell me my hair has turned white. I don't know. I haven't looked in a mirror. I am still shaking from head to toe chilled to my very core by the experience.

Father MacFallon arrived from Rome a few hours ago. He told me that's the way it happens. Every century or so one gate closes and another opens.

I understand that I am to return to Rome with Fr. MacFallon tonight. They plan to keep me there. I guess that's all right, though. I don't suppose I'd really want to live at the mouth to the gates of hell.




iVillage Member
Registered: 04-10-2003
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 10:09pm
‘Who turned on the TV so loud?’ Grabbing my pillow I wrapped it around my ears. I waited for someone to remember I woke easily and could clearly hear the TV in the next room. ‘Is the sun even up yet?’ When the sound remained constant, I pushed the covers off my exhausted body and fumbled my way into the TV room. No one even watched the blaring box standing in the corner. My fingers, numb with sleep found the volume buttons and turned it down. Back in my bed I pulled the covers over my head for a few more hours of rest.

I had just about drifted off when noise once more blared through the thin walls of our ranch-style home. My fists pulled back the covers and I stomped back into the room where again no one watched the annoying machine. I promptly turned it down and stalked off toward my bedroom. At the doorway I heard my name and turned to find my dad’s face red with frustration.

“What are you doing?”

“Dad, I’m trying to sleep!”

“Thousands of people have just died and I want to know what’s going on!���

I stared at him. With my mind still in the fog of sleep I thought maybe he wanted to watch the end of an adventure movie about some dreaded disaster. He turned up the TV and while he continued to get ready for the day, I watched what he said turn into reality.

iVillage Member
Registered: 01-27-2004
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 11:25pm

I'm going to do both, but I'm going to post them separately.

iVillage Member
Registered: 01-27-2004
Fri, 09-10-2004 - 11:44pm

OK, I'm really nervous about this one!


Under my bed is a box.

iVillage Member
Registered: 10-02-2003
Sat, 09-11-2004 - 5:36pm
On the morning of September 11, 2001, my husband and I were sitting at the breakfast table drinking coffee watching the Today Show. I had just taken early retirement after working 30 years and was adjusting to my no longer 9 to 5 schedule.

When the first plane hit, the Today Show was pre-empted and video of the plane crashing into the World Trade Center was shown. One of the commentators seemed to think that the air traffic controllers had made a mistake. But, soon when the second plane hit, we all knew it wasn't an accident.

That day was one of the most emotionally trying days that I have ever experienced. I can only imagine, in my worst nightmares, the terror that those poor innocent victims experienced that fateful September morning.

iVillage Member
Registered: 07-27-2003
Sat, 09-11-2004 - 10:50pm
Enjoyed your story. Terror
iVillage Member
Registered: 08-26-2004
Sun, 09-12-2004 - 2:27pm
I was sitting under a eucalyptus tree and reading a history book. Perhaps I thought a little about the coming day: the wedding of my brother-in-law. I had an empty coffee cup beside me, and I knew my daughter was inside the guest room we were living in. My husband was visiting a friend, helping him fix something with a computer. Suddenly, my daughter came outside, saying in a strange voice that they were showing something on television and she couldn´t tell if it was a movie or for real -- it probably was for real, but still, it seemed so weird, and please, could I come inside and have a look?

I went in. Beside the tv lay the invitation to the wedding: "... on the twelfth of September, 2001". We just stood there and stared at the screen. Everything had become deathly quiet. My husband came back a few moments later, and whispered that he had known for an hour or so already.

We were in Israel, in the kibbutz where my father-in-law lives. When we walked over to his house, the kibbutz was silent. No children, no yelling mothers, no yapping dogs - only the voices of the CNN through the open windows. While walking, my husband used his cell phone to phone my brother in London.

"No, I´m NOT joking...no,listen...no, the Pentagon is on fire."

We reached the house of my father-in-law.Less than five miles to the east lay the soft hills of the West Bank. On television we saw pictures of how they danced and celebrated in the streets there. No one knew yet who lay behind the attacks.

Late at night, we sat outside in the warm breeze, under the starry sky. Now, everyone was talking, some breathlessly, some restrainedly. Moths and beetles twirled crazily around the lamps, as usual, oblivious of the sweat, the pressure, the acid taste of every morsel of food.

The airport remained closed for days. But we had the wedding - hundreds of guests under the starry sky, a moment of hope and brief oblivion.

iVillage Member
Registered: 06-14-2004
Sun, 09-12-2004 - 4:50pm
September 10th, 2001 was my first day alone in my bed and breakfast safe house on the beach. I didn’t sleep well that night. My husband was trying to find me. He wanted to kill me. My life blew to pieces when the detectives pulled me from my home with just the tank top and shorts I wore that day.

An older woman from church packed a bag for me and hired caregivers for my two chocolate lab puppies. Little Ricky and Little Hope couldn’t go with me. My daughter had been staying the night with a friend and had her bag and blankie with her there. They assured me she was safe and should stay put.

My church lady friend met me in the patrol car on a back road. I was transferred to her car as she assured the detectives I would be in a safe place for the next few days. She brought me to Cape May New Jersey. She registered me in a Christian B & B, paid for three nights and left giving me the contact number with the one detective I had to check in with.

I always wore my long hair in a ponytail to hide the bald patches back then. My husband liked to pull me by my hair. I always went to great lengths back then to hide the evidence of his torture. He was never loud. I was even quieter.

When my friend, who was like a mother to me, left me – and the state – after dinner that night. I was silent. I felt abandoned. I tried to sleep. I jumped and yelped like a lunatic at every sound. I was so tired of being afraid. I slid on my sandals and walked out to the beach. I sat in the sand just listening to the ocean’s tide. It sounded so powerful, unstoppable. Somehow, it gave me hope. There was something more powerful than my husband.

I know I slept that night. My clip-on reading light had burnt out by morning. I showered and made my way down to the porch where they were serving breakfast. I sat way back at a table in the corner. I could still feel the salty breeze from the Atlantic. I eavesdropped on conversations happening around me. Would I be able to have a casual conversation ever again? Fellowship with friends seemed lost to me forever. All that was left, it seemed, were images of horror. I didn’t know how to live anymore. I felt broken, damaged – no, I felt destroyed. I worried about my five-year-old daughter. I worried about my pups that were still in that house.

The owner of the B & B ran out to us and said, “A Plane just crashed into a building in New York!” I tried to run to my room with everyone else, but I was too weak from my injuries to do anything but walk slowly and with support. I collapsed to the floor in my room and turned on the first TV. that I had for weeks. I watched and prayed. All of my self-focusing vanished. The horrors on the screen overshadowed anything I had ever seen before. The rage of the terrorists was unsurpassed by my husband’s quiet attempts at terror. The destruction leveled buildings. My husband’s damage left me standing. I was still breathing. I saw the labored breath of the rescue workers. There were so many victims who lost their lives. I decided mine could begin again. The evening of September 11, 2001, I sat on the beach. I reached up and pulled the elastic from my hair and let the salty breeze blow it in my face as I shut my eyes and prayed for recovery. Recovery for the victims and their families, and recovery for my own family.

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