A Glimpse of Blue

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a piece that i did for a class at school. It is about the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Centre, but from the point of view of the tower itself. I realise I have taken some liberty with the event, so I hope it doesn't offend anyone.

Submitted: March 19, 2010

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Submitted: March 19, 2010

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I stand in the cold morning air, the sharp wind whipping around my head. Buses slowly trundle past my feet, honking and swerving to avoid bleary-eyed stragglers clutching lukewarm Starbucks on their way to work. As the hour draws close to nine o’clock my belly fills with the bustle of human life – quick greetings in the lift, the rustle of newspaper, the hum of a laptop, the dry click of a briefcase. I stand proudly, lording as a King over a country proud of industry. A small boy – perhaps three or four – clutches his mother’s hand as she elbows her way through the crowd and past my doors. She makes her way to the third floor where she squats down and flattens the collar of his small blue coat. She whispers something in his ear and a grin spreads across his face. He hugs her tightly. Standing up, she leads the boy over to the doors of the crèche and gives him over to the teacher. She blows him a kiss, but he does not see as he hangs up his satchel and runs to his friend at the play-dough table. She suppresses a smile and then turns to the elevator, presses the button, and waits.

 

By now I am full of life. People have settled down to work. They complete spreadsheets, email stressful presentations, Google cheap flights to Bali. I bask in the little sunlight there is up above the clouds. A distant hum breaks the serene silence. The people below in the street do not notice – except for one elderly Asian man, who squints against the glare of the sky, looking for the source of the noise. Slowly, the hum becomes a buzz, which becomes a distant roar – closer than I know it should be. People look out of my windows, confused. In the streets people begin to peer up into the sky, pointing. A plane hurtles toward me, ripping up the sky. The roar becomes unbearable, like a huge angry bee ready to sting. It comes ever closer and then, diving suddenly, plummets into my side. All hell breaks loose. People are screaming, coughing, choking on smoke from the quick-spreading fires. I struggle to stay upright, reeling from the sudden impact. Deep within me, there is a stampede for the doors. The stairs are creaking under the weight, while a handful of desperate, panic-stricken people try to cram into the lifts. A young man of about thirty grabs his laptop and tears down the almost empty third-floor corridor. A deafening crash causes him to glance behind, just in time to see the edge of something small and blue disappear around the corner. Evidently he decides it is nothing, and carries on down the corridor to join the stampede without another backward glance.

 

The plane in my belly is weighing me down, and the fire rages within me, hollowing me out. I begin to teeter. Suddenly my balance shifts, and I begin to topple. With a last burst of energy I manage to stop the fall, just in time. Every fibre in my being is screaming out for me to let go, to fall, but I must wait. Wait until every person is gone from me. The fire climbs floors, higher and higher. When it finally reaches the seventeenth floor, I can hold on no longer. I crash to my knees, sending the people below scurrying out of my way. In desperation people begin to throw themselves from my windows, trying to esape the fate that lies for them within me. I begin to crumble, piles of rubble begin to fall at my feet. As I succumb to gravity, something floats down to rest near a fire engine. I crash down, the ground trembling beneath me. My head comes to rest jus tfifty metres away from the fire engine, and the last thing I see is a small, blue coat, slightly charred and torn, resting on the pavement.


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