God is dead.
I watched in a silent, screaming horror as the plane screeched far above my head, slamming its angry girth straight through the top of the North Tower. I remember the confusion travelling like a wave over all of us watching, taking our sanity by force. I don’t think a single one of us watching believed what our senses told us as we stood paralyzed, stuck to the ground. A moment of silence gripped our chests, wrenching into our hearts as we fumbled over what to say. That moment shattered as the screams began and the sobbing resumed. As for me? I just stood there, mouth gaping in disbelief. The crisp air burrowed deep into my clothing, but I never noticed. I must’ve stood there, paralyzed to that one square of ground, for what seemed like forever.
Then, at 9:03am on the morning of September 11th, 2001, a second plane soared above us all, burying itself within the middle of the South Tower. Flames began to consume the building, making the inside a likely inferno. I opened my mouth to speak – to scream – but my voice and my faith were gone.
God is dead.
Hysteric tears streamed down my face. How could this happen? How could this be real? How could our beloved God let this happen to us? How could this be a part of the grand scheme? How could things ever return to normal? How could – why would God do this to us? To me?
Sobs racked my body as my instinct took over. I curled up on that cold September pavement crying, not knowing what else to do with myself as I shook with utter disbelief. I watched those two towers burn through my blurred, teary vision. A part of me told me to run, but curiosity made me stay.
04-Oct-2011 17:25:16
- Last edited on
04-Oct-2011 17:26:18
by
Aeraie