shortstorieswhenever-blog

[shortstorieswhenever-blog]

Final Fighting Breath

BEFORE READING: “ A story written from the perspective of an elderly man during the tragedy that was 9/11.” 

Swinging, the door open in a hurry, I glance at my watch 8:06 it read in beaming red numbers.  I slide my feet across the cold hard white tile to the elevator. Margret, the women at the reception desk greets me with glee.

               “Big day eh Murphy?  Retirement! God I can’t believe you’ve been working here for nearly twenty years.”

I turn towards her and chuckle.

   “Ha-ha, I know, as of today, September 11, 2001, I am a free man.

She smirks and continues writing her documents. I straighten my brown, tattered golf hat and resume my jaunt to the elevator. I smush my index finger against the worn elevator button, calling it to the ground floor. A young gentleman dressed in a slate black suit rushes over to the elevator.

                 “Seventy eighth floor?”

He says under his breath.

                  “What floor you goin’ to?”

I question the man in a reverent tone.

                 “110, uh- the top floor.”

He says anxiously.

                  “Nervous Buddy?”

I say in a joking manner.

 “Well my wife thinks she’s going into labour so currently, am I okay? No.”

He says in a panic.

 “Just breathe buddy! I’ve been in your shoes before... Sort of.”

I said as if I was talking to a toddler. The elevator door slowly creeks open exposing a small enclosed metal room. Black stained carpet covers the floor. The man jumps in before the door could fully open

“C’mon lets go.”

The man says in a fluster. I quickly step in. He clicks floor 110 without asking me what floor I was going to. Luckily we were headed to the same one.

  “God damn!  Hurry the hell up we’ve been in this thing for ages.” He says in a grumpy tone.

I don’t blame him.  Going to floor 110 takes longer than walking a ten mile sprint. After countless minutes of waiting, the elevator finally opens. He rushes out and swiftly turns left opposite to where I was going. I lick my cracked, chapped lips as I exit the elevator. I turn right. My knees click as I shuffle down the long hallway. Rays of sunlight pierced the windows ricocheting off every piece of glass that polluted my work space. A smile grows as I realize I’ll never have to return to this hell hole again.

 As I turn the corner to my office I push my sleeve up exposing my watch. 8:35. I take my last and final look at my closet of an office. I snatch the battered cardboard box on the ground labelled “Murphy’s stuff” I had left there yesterday. I place it on my small yellow aluminum desk and begin packing.                          *Knock *Knock. I place my family picture down and turn my attention to the door.

                                   “George!”        

I say cheerfully.

                                     “Leavin’ me already old man?”

He says grinning like a monkey.

                                   “Oh, you’ll be in my position one day boss.”

I say with plentiful expression. He pushes himself from the doorway gracefully approaching me with his hands clasped behind his back.  I fix my focus to the ticking clock that hung above the doorway. 8:45, ten minutes had vanished in the blink of an eye. He snaps his fingers capturing my attention. I jar my vision on his small grey eyes.

                                   “What happened? Don’t you space out on me.  Anyway I’ve got a little token of gratitude for you.  I know it probably doesn’t mean much to you since you’re retiring and all, but whatever. Here you go...”

He unclasps his hands from his back and reveals a plaque with my name on it that reads “Best south tower employee: Murphy Growl.” I place my hand on his shoulder.

                                    “Thank y-.”

An immense tremor riddles the tower from the ground up. I lose my footing and tumble to the ground as my knees buckle. A painfully loud shrieking noise floods my ears as the windows of my office erupt from their frames. I regain balance as I shoot up from the ground.

                                    “What the hell was that? An earthquake?”

I say distraughtly. No one answers. I vault my desk searching for George.  I see him thrown into piles of glass and rubble.

                                    “George!”

I desperately dig him out, as everyone around sobs and panics. I shovel the last bit of glass off George as his eyes close. His pulse disappears. I tear up as black, thick smog fills the room. The screams quickly shift to whimpers as they become aware of the situation. I rush to the window.  The streets were flooded with thousands and thousands of people.  Through all the chaos I could hear faint sirens coming closer and closer to the towers. I stick my head out of the window.  I look down.  My heart drops.  A raging fire spews from the floors beneath us. I gasp for air as my lungs fill with the rich, black smoke.

                                  “Help!”

I plead. A small gaunt figure emerges from the darkness.  Colour through what seemed to be hell forms. It’s a lady. She runs straight past me and hurls herself through the window. Reality sets in. My eyes widen as my lungs burn. I stand up griping my throat as I search for air. I find myself back in my office. I scramble around for a moment as the building’s steel beams moan and groan. The orange flames stretch past my office window. My eyes roll back in their sockets as I slump to the ground in agonizing pain. The weeps of strangers grow solemn. My heart rate deteriorates. My muscles loosen as I begin to lose consciousness. I take my last and final fighting breath.

                              “We love death; the U.S loves life that is the big difference.”

                                                                                           Osama Bin Laden

   10/24/2016

[shortstorieswhenever-blog]

Loss of Direction

BEFORE READING: “I wrote this a while back, not sure if there is any major mistakes but at the time I thought this was a pretty cool little story.”

As the murky liquid drips in rivulets from my limbs, the terrain shreds my drenched snow boots from my dampened achy feet. My beard catches the snow from the windy air leaving my face frostbitten. My nose remains a clogged space of ice. My eye sight fades in and out as I trudge through the wasteland. My lip quivers as my body temperature depletes rapidly. I had strayed off the hiking trail and am lost within the thick snowy forest. I had lost my bag a few hours back, before the storm struck.

~ THREE HOURS BEFORE ~

I swing my back pack over my shoulder; the immense weight tugs my body with it. I regain balance and slam the trunk of my so called “Hippie-Van.”  My friend Charlie slowly creeps around the side of the van.

               “Couldn’t of picked a better day Leo, I gotta’ say.” Charlie said with little enthusiasm.

               “Yeah, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been out in the mountains so, well you know.” I say while grinning. The sun beams through the trees, the light filters through the pine needles and wood. It casts small shadows upon the fluffy cold radiating snow. My other friend Desdemona slides her feet through the snow. Her ice picks dangling from her sides leaving delicate meagre lines deep in the snow.

               “How y’all doin’?” She says with her thick southern accent.

               “A-1 Dessy and you?”  Replied Charlie.

               “Me? I’m doin’ just fine. Can’t wait to get up in tha’ mountains, ya’ know.” She replies quickly.

               “Well let’s stop the chit chat and get to hiking.” I say with excitement.

~

As I heave myself towards the cave my stomach dragging along the jagged shards of ice that polluted what seemed to be hell.  I haul myself one last time; I enter the not so deep cave escaping the frigid hostile wasteland.

~ TWO HOURS BEFORE ~

As my lungs fill with freezing air I slam my ice pick into the ground. Lifting my feet one by one the snow shoes that I had equipped begin to become not so forgiving.

               “C’mon Leo, catch up.” Barked Charlie.

One hour in and I already wanted to turn back. The air was getting colder and snow fall was beginning. Were not supposed to be up in these mountains in the winter anyway. I push through the pain that riddled my feet and catch up with the group. We had no destination. All we wanted was to summit the damn thing.

 ~

I remove my slush soaked gloves and raise my hands to my cracked lips. I exhale hard attempting to warm them up. But my breath was just as cold as the snow that lined my clothes. A tear drops from my eye warming my face as it courses down a small path on my left cheek.

 ~ ONE HOUR BEFORE ~

Snow fall had really begun. I lost one of my snow shoes a couple dozen yards back. I already considered it gone. No use of even attempting to look for it. The group was stuck together like glue, side by side we push to the summit.

               “We can’t turn back now!” Yelped Charlie as Desdemona grunts from the needle like snow.

He was right we couldn’t. I should have told them when I had the chance...

 I slump to a rock in the back corner of the cave. Although the cave was roughly five or six feet deep it proved to be pretty useful in my time of need. My clothes were no longer soaked. Still damp but not unbearably wet and cold. I stroke my beard, ridding it from stray snowflakes that have yet to melt. My lips chapped beyond belief. The insurmountable pain remained on my lips and would remain for a while.

 ~ NOW ~

The snow restricted my sense of direction. The wind itself was enough to lose a group. But with the snow, it was inevitable. I lost my group about twenty minutes back. I tried yelling their names but the only response I get is the taunting sounds of the wind and the snow drifting across the top of the icy terrain.

 I equip my dampened apparel and remove myself from the cave. I could wait out the storm but who knows how long it would go on for. Hours, days perhaps weeks. The mind wrenching thought of death pestered in my mind for a while until I refused my fate. I refuse to die in this god forsaken cave in the middle of bloody nowhere! I clip on my remaining snow shoe and head out into the storm. The snow batters me; my mind sinks deeper and deeper into a state of psychotic nature. I begin talking to myself hallucinations slowly creep into my mind.

               “What a wonderful day!” I scream as the gruelling pain of freezing water consumes my body.

I snap back into reality as a massive clump of icy snow slams the top of my head. The pain lingers for a brief moment then flees as I continue my journey through the storm. Once again I had no destination; all I wanted was to see my beautiful “Hippie Van” once again...  The traumatizing sound of wind rustling through the trees played in the back of my mind like a broken record until... The wind stopped along with the insane amount of snow. I tilt my head back to take in the sun but all I could feel was the familiar pain of sharp flakes of snow laying on my face. I was hallucinating, of course. Reality and my minds fake version of reality mesh together. Nothing is real anymore only the steady pain of my body being enveloped by snow and ice. My brain pulling me into the void, trying to kill me. I crumble to my knees from the shear amount of snow that had made its way into my shoes. I voraciously rip my shoe from my foot. It flies off my foot and sinks into the wall of snow that layered my vision.

               “Well that’s just great!” I say furiously as my foot loses all feelings. Even pain. That’s something I haven’t felt in a while. I make my way through the woods in shambling speed. Death was now certain. I was dancing on the horizon of death itself. My muscles slowly lock up as I barbarically move closer and closer down the mountain. I plop my hand in and out of the snow my eyes stream tears as I grow aware of what was to come. My cries were worth just as much as the snow that was trapped in the clothes, worthless! I shut my eyes for a moment not knowing if I should open them again.  And if it was even worth it what did I have to come home to anyway? No wife, no kids, no family... My friends are probably already at the gates of heaven waiting for my arrival. So I guess I’ll leave them closed just for a moment...

 12/16/2016