Story Ideas

The North Tower

World: 2001 America

Status: Wrote a long time ago, wanting to write about 9/11

Why I wrote it: I wanted to honor those that died then. Who gave their lives saving others, and who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, like Sierra. I tried to write this in the most respectful way possible. 

Summary: A girl goes to live with her Aunt in New York, but when she is doing a job interview in the North Tower, tragedy strikes. 

Chapter 1:

So I let John, my brother, convince me to go to New York.

"It'll be an adventure!" he said. Oh, if only he had known how uncannily true those words really were.

Personally, I had been very content in Juneau, Alaska, where there was always a chill to the air and wildlife lurking behind every bush. I had no desire to experience huge cities and towers and cars and whatever else was destroying what little was left of our beautiful Earth. My brother? Well, let's just say that seeing some of the tallest buildings in the world would be the experience of his life as far as suburban events go. Of course, he was only 13.

That week we had heard an announcement that flights to New York were on sale for 40% off. He had looked up at me and jut out his lip, his eyes wide in the familiar begging expression he always used to win me over. And I, caved in and bought us tickets. We would stay with our aunt. He even convinced me to book a job interview. 

Mother was supportive after I got the courage to tell her. It cost my whole life's savings, but I think she knew she would never be able to take us. Lately, she had been feeling a little, so to say, "Under the Weather", and it hadn't been getting any better. It didn't help that she wouldn't let me pay for her trip to the doctor. If I hadn't been so selfish, I would have stayed in Juneau to see her die.

We received the news over a phone call on our way to the airport. I hated driving and talking since I was only 16, and just received my driver's license, so I didn't answer. I just left my ringtone to keep playing until it hit my voicemail.

I didn't check my voicemail until we got into the airport. By then, we were too far away to drive back. Me and John hugged each other, tears streaming down our face as we walked to our plane.

"What are we gonna do Sierra?" John whimpered, his face buried into my jacket.

I wasn't sure.

I was never sure after that.

John and I boarded our flight, and I spent most of the time trying to cry myself to sleep. And as far as I could tell from his stifled sobs, so was John.

The trip was no longer exciting anymore.

I woke to John stabbing me with his writing pencil. He wanted to be an author when he grew up, so the whole flight he had been trying to come up with book ideas (after his attempt at falling asleep proved fruitless). I had taken the pencil and poked him right back with it.

"Ow!" He said, although I could see the excitement in his eyes untainted by my actions. Or maybe it was just tears. "We're here!"

He was right. I'm not sure how long I was sleeping for, but when I looked to my left,the aisle was packed full of people bustling to get off of the plane. We stood up and waited, possessions in hand, until the end of the stream of people was in sight.

We walked off the flight, our bags bumping into nearly everything. It was bright outside, and I shaded my eyes with my hand as I surveyed New York.

We walked back through the airport and into the city. Buildings were everywhere, and the air smelled like gasoline. Our ears hummed with the sound of thousands of engines.

I scanned the horizon, and there they were. The towers of the World Trade Center were as tall as the sun, and gleamed with superiority.

"Woah." John sniffed. I hadn't realized he'd been crying. I looked down at him, and my face started to get hot. A tear of my own slid down my cheek. I would do this. For her.

"We made it." I whispered.