This is my first book so I'm sorry if it's really, really bad and there a loads of mistakes.
PART ONE
I died, well according to the government I did. I never did come home, I never was found. Besides, I pretty sure no one missed me. I had no family whatsoever except for a distant third cousin who's name I believe to be James. But anyway, back to the point. Why am I here, why am I writing this well here's the start of my story. My name is Jonathon Engle and I'm alive.
I lived in the Big Apple, New York. I loved it there; the sound of the city; the bustle of the people. Every morning the vibrant colour of the streets waved me to work. I was originally from Minneapolis, I went to Yale. I studied finance. During those four years of hell I made little friends none of which I was still in touch with when it happened.
I never realized nor understood how lucky I was to live in NYC. I had a relatively big apartment but very little money. I basically had it all to myself, except for the gentle passing of helena, my Girl friend. We had only been together a year and a few months, she may have been pregnant when she died but I guess now I will never know.
On the supposed last day of my life, I was walking to my most favorite place in all the world: Work. that day where I was rudely stopped by a large group of tourists throwing questions at me. As usual, I calmly carried on walking to work thinking about whether I should move or not. I remember that day it was really sunny and the blue sky mirrored the sea. I kept walking forward until I could see the stunning 30 year old World Trade Centre piercing the sea with their height. I breathed in hmmm work I remember thinking. Which was usual may I add.
I worked in the south tower 105th floor for a small firm who worked on people who died but didn't leave a will. My job was to track the long lost family members of the deceased. I worked with four other people in my department: Sam Kooku:i a fat plump old man with a long beard and aging features, Chris Trout: a middleaged man with greying hair that used to be black and really big blue eyes, Leyla Shaft: an african American with long platted black hair which went way below her belly button and finally Charlie Marki: Charlie was the only one I liked, he was a short man with small mouse like features and could always make me laugh. I talk about them like it was only yesterday but I haven't seen any of them since September 11th 2001.
