9/11 Short Stories

“Class, this is Syl Clairen,” Mrs. Jyley introduces the tall, chestnut haired girl standing at the front of the class. “Say ‘hi’ Syl.” “Hi,” Syl says, looking at her shoes as if they are the most interesting item in the whole class. That wouldn’t be an overstatement, though. The bland room can’t hold a candle against her shoes. They are orange converse with shoelaces that look like they were tie-dyed with sharpies.

“Why don’t you sit down next to Zelda,” Mrs. Jyley gestures to the vacant desk next to me. “Go on, she’s friendly,” she prompts, when Syl hesitates.

Syl walks down the aisle to her desk, carrying a duct tape covered notebook under one arm. When she sits down, she glances at me . I jolt in surprise flabbergasted when I catch her gaze.

The ever present noise of cars zooming past, and lights of New York City seems to fade away. The sirens of police following a robber coming from a bank, or a fire truck, or an ambulance, all disappear leaving me with my breath and quickening pulse. Abruptly, the discomfort surges. A creature illuminated by a blue haze flickers into sight. Its feet are swollen, with yellow pus oozing from the cuts all over them. Hunched over, the only other part I can see is its back (not that it was better) which is covered in a mess of giant purple sores. As I watch, one pops, releasing a spurt of green liquid.

Just as quickly as the being appears, it vanishes. Suddenly, flashing closer, I topple my chair when I jump up. The noise draws the animal’s attention and it looks at me, or tries to. The face is eerily similar to a human’s. Nose smushed into a grotesque feature, eyes white with the lids black like they are frostbitten. The mouth is yellow, cracked, and drooling bloody saliva. I grab my baseball bat from my desk. When I turn around, a split second later, it is gone. Slowly, I climb into bed, completely worn out. That whole night I do not find a wink of