by Marilyn Knowles Wilke

Created on: July 27, 2008

Not knowing what had just happened, we awoke to darkness. The world had become a broken place, people screaming and begging for help, but no one was coming. I did not hear any sirens or see any blinking lights. The sounds of children crying and women screaming, trying to find their children was all I could hear. Something had happened, but no one seemed to know. As I looked over at my boyfriend, Max, he had blood running down his face, a look of fear consumed him. Somehow, I knew that he would not be able to help me. His eyes were stone cold, never searching again. He was in shock and as I grew closer, I realized why. His body was in one place and his legs in another. I wanted to be sick, but I knew I had to be strong.

I sat down beside his torn body and stroked his hair, trying to keep him from giving up, but I knew in my heart it would not matter what I said or did, he was dying. I felt a coldness surrounding me as he stopped breathing. I wanted to cry, but I had to get out of there before the rest of my house came down on me. I looked around, seeing bodies scattered in the road, people screaming and children standing in one place, confused, injured, and afraid. I wanted to help all of them, but I knew I probably only had strength enough to carry one, maybe two.

As I approached a little girl standing close to where my mailbox once stood, I could see that she was bleeding from her right arm, still clinging to her little rag doll. I looked around, hoping to find some way to stop the bleeding, only to see more people in need of help. I looked back toward the tall pile of rubble that once was my home. I spotted some towels that had once been stacked neatly in a cabinet. I grabbed as many as I could and walked back toward the little girl. I placed one small towel around her arm, making sure it was tight enough, waiting to hear her cry, but I heard only the sound of her breathing. She collapsed in my arms, and as my hand braced her back, I realized she had a large hole. My stomach began to turn as I realized she had just died.

I tried to help a little boy on the ground, but he was also too far gone. I finally came upon a small little girl, only about two years old, crying in the very center of the road. As I moved closer to her, I saw that she was standing over what must have been her mother. Her twisted body lay lifeless as the little girl tried to awake her. I lifted her in my arms. She had only a few scratches, but it was obvious that she was terrified. I embraced

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