9/11 Short Stories

Oh, what a comfort it is to write; word after word. A life of literature and personal expression is one to be cherished. Silence; I sit alone and write my truth before I no longer can. My time here has nearly reached its demise.

It happened all at once; the end of all spirit. Coated with a cloud of fog the night was calm. I had left my office and was walking towards my car. As I sat down, I noticed something quite odd about the night. The streets were vacant and hidden with nothing but the moonlight laid across them, and the only sign of life was a noise. Construction. Although I had this burning sensation that something was wrong I continued. Slowly I pulled out of the parking lot and went home.

I step into a cold and dark room. Sobs echo

Tell me!” I shouted without meaning to raise my voice.

“He’s gone.” Julia muttered through her tears

“What. Who. Where is Eli!”

Heartbroken she replied “He. Is. Gone. They took him, Frank!”

“Julia! What do you mean they took him? You must tell me the entirety of the story! Now, who took Eli?

”I don’t know Frank! Do you expect that men who abducted our boy left a business card? Three suits came to the door and asked to talk. Assuming they were salesmen I said no. I’m not sure who they were but they forced their way in, and I hit my head on the mantel. A couple of hours ago I found myself in an empty house. I don’t know what happened!“ Julia turns away as if ashamed.

”But I do know I let him down. He’s gone and it’s my fault. What are we going to do Frank?“ Desperation flowing through her words.

”Well.“ I fumble over the idea of what to say next.

”First, I’m going to stitch up your head, and then I don’t know.“ I turn towards her and wrap my hands gently around her face. ”But I know we will find him. He’s our boy and we won’t stop until he is back home.“

I push her hair from in front of her face and kiss her on the

Julia. She was never quite returned to herself after that night. Neither did I, but she was different. Something about those men that took Eli. She didn’t have any hope. They stole her heart and slaughtered her spirit. She was a shell. Mourning the death of her son, or at least the one she knew.

Time passed and with it came disappointment. The city began to put up old school buildings to provide a “sense of home” or at least that is what we were told. Even though we were moving forward it seemed as though our quality of life had regressed. We went a year with no trace of Eli. Julia cried every hour of the day. Purpose, meaning, the point of life had been stolen along with Eli and I couldn't let it go.

Most of my days were spent online searching for any lead as to where Eli was. That was until our entire towns internet suddenly ceased to exist. Our local police spent more time whispering into each other's ears then looking for my son, and it seemed as though nobody above them would give me the time of day. A year of my life spent chasing my tail it seemed. That was until the epidemic. Daughters, sons, sisters, brothers. Children were disappearing. Sadly, the intense neglect by people with power was still very noticeable, but with every missing kid came more dedicated families. Town halls, police stations, protests. Nobody was at home. Despite these efforts, we were still ignored and eventually prosecuted. Protests were shut down with riot gear and town hall meetings