Young Writers Society

“Good morning sleepy head.”
Those were the last words I heard her say before the disaster. She said those four words and gave me a good morning kiss.
You’re probably thinking I’m some acne ridden teenager that gets told that every morning by their mother, but I’m actually a grown man. And that was my wife talking to be honest I did think it was a man and his wife, the teenager thing never crossed my mind and felt a little out of place. I don’t exactly remember anything from that day, except those words… to this day I still wonder why. The disaster was well… disastrous. It wasn’t just any disaster; it was a disaster that will still be known for centuries on end. It’s a disaster that if you asked any American, ninety nine point nine percent of them would say they remembered exactly where they were when the they saw the event on the news or just when they found out that it had happened. Some saw it as a conspiracy but most saw it as a national disaster that is still affecting people and will their whole lives. Especially mine. When I hear the date, my skin tightens, my ears ring, and I am overwhelmed with sadness. Instinct you might say. When I hear the date, my body tenses, I break down, and I start to cry. Like a switch turns on and BOOM. I’m crying like a little kid that doesn’t get what they want at the store. Maybe it’s because I didn’t get what I wanted… but she did.
Chapter One
“Good morning sleepy head.”
Mary leaned over and tenderly kissed me on the cheek. I rolled over, angered by the fact that I had been awoken from my slumber, and waved my wife away like a master to a slave. I tumbled out of bed groggily, and zombie- walked to the kitchen to get my coffee. I took a sip of the black, bitter substance and made a face like I had just eaten a whole sour lemon.
“Too strong,” I complained.
7:14
I always wondered why I still drank the stuff even though I hated it. Habit? I guess. I set the cup down and sauntered over to the bathroom where my toothbrush and razor were waiting period clean my yellow tinged teeth and slice my stubble off my rough neck. I cringed as I accidentally sliced the first layer of my skin with the thin, sharp razor blade. I ran my dry hands through the water, messed them in my coarse, black hair, put gel in my hands, and neatly combed it until it was neat and crisp. Today was going to be an interesting day. I could feel it in my bones. I moped back over to the bedroom where I would dress, expecting my wife to be there. She wasn’t.
7:19
“Honey?” I called, waiting for a response.
No reply.
Ok then. I continued with my daily ritual as if nothing had happened because well…nothing had. Yet. I casually pulled on my white undershirt fidgeting with the tiny buttons. They never seemed to fit exactly inside the smaller holes. I then layered my cleaned and pressed suit over it. I wriggled my wrists so that the sleeves of the suit would comfortably fall over them. I spent almost fifteen minutes trying to get the gold buttons of my sleeves clamped together but I eventually came out victorious. I picked out my favorite tie (the shiny black one) and tightly pulled it until it snuglyhugged my neck It‘s a picky comment, but I feel like you use too many adverbs and it slows down your prose a little bit. Here I thought you could cut out ‘snugly‘ because ‘hugged‘ kind of implies a snug fit x) Just a suggestion. Read it without the ‘snugly‘ to see if it sounds better to you. . I walked to the mirror and straightened the tie until I felt at ease with how I looked. I finally gave myself the nod of approval and walked out of the bedroom with newfound confidence; my tiredness suddenly swept away. I headed over to the shoe closet where I found my newly shined black shoes and shoved them on over my black socks. I grabbed my work-case, opened the door to start heading out, but hesitated. As I kept the door open I turned my head towards the hall and shouted,
“Bye sweetie! I’m off to work! See you when I get home, ‘kay?”
7:53
Still no response.
As I walked out the door, I pondered how odd it was that she hadn’t answered either of the times that I had called her that morning. I still don’t know. I hopped in the taxi cab and told the driver to take me to the World Trade Center. He looked very pleased and happily took me to my destination. I was about to spark up a conversation, but then decided not to because I felt like just sitting and being mute. I checked my watch.
8:00
The ride takes about fourteen minutes during low traffic so that left me with about six minutes to spend on my own. Yesterday I had spent that time trying to get the vending machine to accept my dollar bill. It never did. I decided that I would just sit outside among the trees and bustling traffic, to just get my thoughts together and think things through. [It] Does your mind a lot of good to just relax and let your thoughts free flow. We pulled up to the office grounds. We? I thought he had gotten out of the taxi and was outside.
8:22
I had exactly eight minutes to do as I pleased which was still to just sit and think. I thought about why I felt today was going to be interesting. I thought about why my wife never answered me and why she seemed to not be in the house. I thought about why coffee was so bitter.IThose eight minutes had passed by so fast… Now I wish I had been sick that morning. Actually, I wish I had never been born that morning. Wish I had never taken my first breath, wish God had never created me, and wish my parents never got together he sounds so whiny to me right now x( This seems like something a twelve year old would say and not a grown man. . I wish I was never alive that morning. I wish that my thirty eight years of living had been reduced down to zero. Not because of the physical pain that followed the disaster, but the emotional.
When I checked my watch, I realized that it had actually been nine minutes. I was late. Normally I would have been panicked, and would have run as fast as I could to get to my cubicle, but today was the boss’s day off and Larry was in charge. Larry was nice. He didn’t get mad if you were late, he didn’t yell. He was very placid and kind. A very convivial companion to have. I liked Larry.
8:30
He warmly welcomed me with a cup of coffee and a glazed donut from Krispy Kreme™ I don‘t think you need the little TM in the corner . I turned down the coffee but gladly accepted the donut since I hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning. I was too caught up. Too laid back. Larry patted me on the back as I headed over to my cubicle. I sat down and started up the old computer.
8:32
I waited as the computer heated up and finally finished my donut. I wiped the crème residue off my face with a random napkin that was lying around my cluttered cubicle. As I was about to throw it away, I saw that something was written or drawn on it. It had random notes all over it but what caught my eye was the number eight hundred and forty six underlined and written boldly in the middle of it. I racked my mind trying to make sense of the note but couldn’t find anything. Just blank memories. I shrugged and tossed it into the waste bin and stared at my computer screen, trying to remember what I was going to do. I couldn’t remember so I just opened up my email. ‘One new message!’ popped up annoyingly on the screen so I opened it. It read:
‘Hey John,
I was just letting you know that our little family gathering is today at 8:30 pm at the Sheridan’s back yard! I hope you remember what to bring, but if you didn’t, here’s a list.
• Your wife
• Bug spray
• An entrée of your choice
• A delicious dessert! Yummy!
• A hat (it will be hot)
• And sunscreen (don’t want to burn in the heat of the summer sun)
Sincerely,
Graham and Lacy’
I groaned and closed my email.
“SHHHHH!” complained Jenny.
“Sorry!” I replied to her.
Jenny was… well she was Jenny. That’s practically the only way to describe her. She was highly religious, always came to work very early to do I don’t even know what. She was always the employee of the year even though the boss hated her. Well, the boss hated everyone, but he mostly hated her because of her annoying rudeness. She had average length hair ‘average length hair’ isn’t very descriptive. I mean, what is average? It would be better if you just said ‘shoulder length hair’ or something that gives us a clear picture. that was always pulled taught in a bun. Her piercing grey eyes could turn anyone to stone, and her harsh voice made her an even more un-loveable person. I felt sorry for her… sometimes. Many rumors have been going around the office that her husband left her or her daughter died or she had a miscarriage. I just think she’s a naturally harsh and bratty person.
Back to the email. I hated our monthly gatherings with the in- laws. They were always so boring and the sun always killed me! Also I had completely forgotten to bake anything but I was sure that my faithful wife had made something special for her parents. They shouldn’t really call it a family gathering because it literally is just us. Me, Mary (my wife), and her parents. It’s always in the Sheridan’s back yard because they are always on some church trip every fifth of the month so we just use theirs. (The Sheridan’s and us have been friends for quite a few years, so they don’t mind at all really.)
I looked down at the bottom right corner of the screen to see the time.
8:36
I sighed and went through all of my folders trying to find some old work that I could finish, as I had already finished my current assignments. I looked at all the pictures of my wife posted on the sides of my computer screen. We looked so happy, and in most of them we were. But the rest, we were just wearing a mask for the rest of the world to see how happy we were when it was quite the contrary. We had been bickering for a few months now over kids. I wanted them, she didn’t. It was quite ironic because normally it’s the opposite in relationships. The man is supposed to be the one not wanting kids and the wife should be the one that does. I guess that’s not what fate had planned for us. Sometimes, when I see the pictures of us smiling, I imagine that we are in a hospital, and that we are smiling at a new born baby girl. Her name would be Sarah. She would be 8 pounds and 7 ounces and would be bundled up in a pink blanket. But I’ve pretty much lost all hope. I hold up my wrist to see the Rolex ™ again I don’t think the TM is necessary that’s sitting there.
8:39
My skin tightens. My breath quickens. The room is suddenly very cold. I itch with anxiety but I don’t know why. It was all natural. A reflex. But what was the stimulus? If I had known then, I would have run from that office as quick as I could. Wouldn’t even bother calling for help. I would have been too focused on my survival than to let others live. Selfish, but true.
8:40
No one was expecting that in six minutes, they wouldn’t exist. Only in peoples’ minds would they still be alive. Their spirit would be elsewhere. Heaven, Hell, Paradise, Nirvana, whatever they believed in, they would be there. People in a plane would be panicking. Babies crying, children screaming, people praying. The brave would be pouring boiling water on the pilots, trying to help the situation. Flight attendants would be trying to call for help, while also trying to calm the alarmed crowd.
Mothers’ would be singing their babies to sleep. They tried convincing themselves that they were singing just for their babies, but they knew. They knew they were also singing themselves to sleep. A sleep that would never end.
It was September first.
It was 2001.

I continued with my daily ritual as if nothing had happened because well…nothing had. Yet. I casually pulled on my white undershirt fidgeting with the tiny buttons. They never seemed to fit exactly inside the smaller holes. I then layered my cleaned and pressed suit over it. I wriggled my wrists so that the sleeves of the suit would comfortably fall over them. I spent almost fifteen minutes trying to get the gold buttons of my sleeves clamped together but I eventually came out victorious. I picked out my favorite tie (the shiny black one) and tightly pulled it until it snugly hugged my neck. I walked to the mirror and straightened the tie until I felt at ease with how I looked. I finally gave myself the nod of approval and walked out of the bedroom with newfound confidence; my tiredness suddenly swept away. I headed over to the shoe closet where I found my newly shined black shoes and shoved them on over my black socks. I grabbed my work-case, opened the door to start heading out, but hesitated.

It was September first.
It was 2001.