by Crimson Boudoir

Created on: January 24, 2010

The sound erupted, ripping the perfect cloudless day in half. The second plane had just hit Tower Two and had exploded into a fireball leaving a gaping mouth of fire at the top of the building.

I was taken by surprise, a moment which seemed surreal and out of place, a scream propelling itself from my throat. It was a Tuesday morning, and I was outside doing a laundry list of what to buy. It was rare that I was out of bed and active before 10 in the morning, as my work always kept me up late into the night. My friend Natalie was looking at me patiently, her pencil poised as I paused in my dictation.  We’ve known each other for 10 years, and she's  helped me with chores and housework ever since the day I stole her from the agency . When the word, “Avocado” came out of my mouth, my brain took a step back. The ominously loud explosion which   happened directly after made no sense. I could not comprehend this, because the two events, my saying the word “Avocado” and then, the explosion a split second after, did not go together as things should.  

 My Brooklyn Heights apartment faced the promenade, only a block away, but taller buildings blocked any view of the city.  It was one of the longest moments of my life, where things became slower and more vivid.  I looked up suddenly, and saw throngs of people standing on the rooftops of the higher buildings surrounding me.

“What is it? What's happening?” I shouted to them. I had immediately thought, “Atom Bomb,”

Someone shouted back, “A plane. It's crashed into the World Trade Center.” Little white pieces of paper swirled toward me. It reminded me of a ticker tape parade. I ran inside and turned on CNN. Commentators were musing over the possibilities of it being a small plane, unclear that the two airplanes had been commercial. I knew that a small plane exploding would have never sounded like that. I hadn't  been aware until turning on the news, that there had been a first plane. It seemed to have been sucked into tower one without the ear splitting catastrophic explosion of the second plane. My heart pounded in my throat, and in my ears.  I was shaking. I could feel the hysteria rise within and the feeling of terror which existed just below the surface of my skin,  threatened to come out screaming.  My body moved and went through motions, but my thoughts were unclear like static on a radio.

I pulled

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