New York Ashes

I wrote this for one of the contests

    Panic.

     t's not a real "noise" like the ones you hear on a normal New York day. The sirens wailing, the radio booming, the footsteps clunking on the faded gray asphalt. Panic. It's a noise that will forever be trapped in my head from that indigo September morning.

    The day I told my mother I wanted to be a firefighter was on a plain, dreary August day. I was eight at the time, my eyes wide with wonder, my  soul full of innocence. I remember the soft summer rain and my sticky fingers from the cherry popsicle I was eating. The memory was as sharp as the eleventh day's smoke.  She responded, her pale lips in a O shape, with an absolutly not.

You see, my father was a firefighter. He fell on a day I was only four, a ice cold, black day. An apartment fire, my mother said. Trying to save a little girl. They both died when the bui;ding crumbled into ash, right before thet exited.

  All I carry of my mothers now is the memory of her baby blue eyes, and her gold cross necklace. I had the charm embedded in my badge, like a light of hope on a dark blanket. my mother died the year after I told her of my ambitions to follow my fathers footsteps. My grandmother wouldn't tell me how she died, and to this day, I still don't know.

    I remember they day the twins fell. Me and Joe were playing poker in the commens room. I was just about to win the jackpot, when Thompson walked in, his limbs taut.

    "Terrorist attack' was all he could muster before falling to the floor, his hands curled on his face. Another member came and told us what had happened. The north bulding of the World Trade Center has been ht by planes.

  Thompson's father worked at the WTC. I had a flashback to when the worn apartment building crumbiling down, taking my father away like a theif in the night.

  I caught Joe's terrified expression. Joe. We have been buddies scince the day I moved to my grandmothers house after my mother died. We met at the local market and from that day on have been inseaprable. We went through first heartbreak, first cars, first beer, and firefighting training together. He has somehow become part of me, part of this crazy ride I've lived on.

  The ride was a blur. I remember looking out the windows, seeing people staring toward the black September sky. Some were screaming, some arguing. Most had solumn faces, either from shock or respect for the people above us dieing.

  We were stationed on Ground 0, by the sumway station. Close enough to see the scarred, torn hearts of the ash- covered people coming from the building. Close enough to see the people who wanted nothing more then an escape, jumping, from the 70th, 80th floor.

   By now, the South Tower had been hit too. I can only desribe it as a huge black blanket, taking over the city by storm.

  Thompson's father worked on the 78th floor of the South Tower. He wanted to go in the building, go risk his life to save his dad. We had strict orders to stay where we were, but whe the marshall wasn't looking, Joe turned to me with tear stained cheeks and ran in. He heard me scream over the roar of the smoke. He turned around, saluted, and kept running in.

   I tried. I tried to run in after him but the marshall turned around and said no. People were surrounding the squad, calling out various names. Ambulences were taking out smoke filled people on stretchers. It was all blurry to me. I saw my mother baby blue eyes, my fathers angel smile, Joe's laughter when we arm wrestled.

Then I hreard a tornado of booms, screams, explosions. And panic.

  The South Tower was falling. It seemed it was going in slow motion. making a slow creep towrad the city streets. I felt the Marshall grab my shoulder and pull me behind the truck. I heard Thompson, screaming for his father.

  I looked around. The squad was down on one knee, showing respect for the thousands who just died. Some cried, some prayed, some stayed peaceful, but they were all on one knee.

    I whispered " This is for you Buddy" and sunk down to pay repects to m brave friend, my saiveor, my Joe.

 

In the meantime, ashes fell.

Reviews

[~Savannah~]

OH. MY. GOD.