The city fell silent. It was the first time
that the city had ever been this silent; it was a silence that suggested things
ending, falling apart; it was a silence that suggested death. Ash and smoke waivered
and drifted, stealthily swimming along the roads, turning corners, making sure
that its presence was known. Papers flitted and floated along, turning in the
wind like feathers, weightless and free. Shards of metal had been ripped from the
road signs by the almighty gust of debris and ash that had swept rapidly around
the streets, destroying everything in its path. The signs that once stood proud and tall lay
battered on the floor, defeated, twisted and buckled to oblivion. The city seemed
to be beyond repair...silence is golden, at least that what the wise ones say.
Now the noises bounce from every wall, echoing
and repeating themselves; the sound of the pendulum on the grandfather clock
slowly swaying side to side, the tapping of the knocker on the door when
someone calls in to see how she is, the mumble of the radio in the kitchen,
playing day and night. The cold creeps up on the unsuspecting and grieving,
filling the empty spaces where people used to be. She shivers in her jumper and
blanket as the cold air comes over her, she remembers what she has lost. His
shadow still lurks and hangs about the house, following her every move and
keeping a close eye on her to check if she is alright. She sits alone in
silence, glaring at the television screen, vacant, it had been a week already…
Lurking shapes and shadows slowly begin to
shift and surface from under cars and out of surrounding buildings, smothered
in thick, smoggy ash, bewildered, bedraggled and exhausted. The silence is
gradually broken as shoes begin to clatter against the floor and people slowly
start to emerge from the buildings. Ash covers every surface, blocking out any
inch of sunlight. A faint stagnant smell wafts and drifts along the alleyways
and avenues; clings onto the nostrils of the people; the smell of charred corpses
and cremated bones.
*
Commuters hustled and bustled, hurrying to get
to work that day when an almighty boom sounded and debris was splurted out of
the tower, puffing out smoke like a cigar. One of the solid steel lungs of New
York wheezed and spluttered; spilling out debris as it choked on the plane that
had just crashed into it. People gasped, hands to their mouth, amazed at how a
plane could accidentally crash into the north tower.
Workers raced around; reached for belongings.
Smoke was rising up the building, filling every room. A wave of panicking
people swooped down the stairwells, putting them into a gridlock. The wave
reached a peak and then steadily came to a grinding halt. People sighed and began
to turn around, back from where they had come from. “What’s going on? Why
aren’t we moving?” shouted one person. “There’s no way we can get out, every
stairwell’s blocked” shouted another. The wave gradually turned and went back
to where it had formed from, screeching and whining as it went, the people in
it heavy headed and filled with despair. They didn’t know; they had no idea
what had just happened. Everyone in that building was somebodies husband, wife,
colleague, friend, mom, dad, son, daughter, aunt, uncle, cousin or grandparent.
She sits all alone in the dark, waiting. It was
2am and she was suffering from insomnia again. The grandfather clock keeps
ticking, it never stops. She wishes she was like that, continuing on and on, no
matter what happened. Her life had come to a standstill the day that he
disappeared. Time waits for no man…
With an almighty crunch, another plane swooped
down and flew straight into the south tower; this was not an accident. Papers,
glass and shards of metal erupted out of the raging, burning volcano that was
now the World Trade Center. The flames roared and crackled across the buildings,
strengthening as they went and releasing an unholy amount of thick, dark, grey
smoke over the skyline of New York. Darkness loomed, the smoke cloud was
gaining on the people, getting bigger and stronger, beginning to block out any
glimmer of light. People in the streets ran away as fast as they could, mothers
grabbed and held onto children, people tripped and fell over the rubble and
debris, confused and dazed, wondering what had just happened to the world trade
center. People clambered out of the buildings, desperate for air, person upon
person upon person.
People began to fall out of buildings,
contributing to the debris. It seemed that some were making a concerted effort
to jump out. Those last few seconds were peaceful and silent, a time to reflect
and it felt like flying.
*
It was 9:58am. People were gathering together
at a safe distance from the buildings, still gazing up at what was happening
and praying that everyone still left in there would get out alive. Both towers
were now slowly dying. A short silence
occurred before a crescendo roaring sound was heard, piercing everyone’s ear
drums. The towers began to give up and collapse under their own weight,
crumbling and tumbling down and down and down. They did not care whether there
were people in there or not, they couldn’t hold their weight anymore and were
forced to withdraw from their previous efforts of staying upright for the sake
of the people. The foundations of the buildings were returning to their
original place as ash came rolling down the roads, destroying everything in its
path. Now was the time to run, earlier had just been a practice but the fully
formed cloud was now at its strongest, ripping apart signs and things lying
around on the road. The word “RUN!” echoed throughout the empty streets and
suddenly, everything seemed to be in slow motion.
The city fell silent. It was the first time
that the city had ever been this silent; it was a silence that suggested things
ending, falling apart; it was a silence that suggested death. Ash and smoke
waivered and drifted, stealthily swimming along the roads, turning corners,
making sure that its presence was known. Papers flitted and floated along,
turning in the wind like feathers, weightless and free. Shards of metal had
been ripped from the road signs by the almighty gust of debris and ash that had
swept rapidly around the streets, destroying everything in its path. The signs that once stood proud and tall lay
battered on the floor, defeated, twisted and buckled to oblivion. The city
seemed to be beyond repair...silence is golden, at least that what the wise
ones say.
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