Posts Tagged ‘Debris’
Sep
Never Forgotten
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
The eerie sound of rumbling and cries coming from the street as the day turns clouded with dust and debris.
Sirens blaring, chaos ensuing. A day of sadness and a city coming together in the face of tragedy.
The memory of falling angels and blackness in lower Manhattan as firefighters run to help the innocent.
Seventeen years later, the depth of emotion still consumes our souls.
Names read every year on the day, by a weeping family member.
Sleepless nights and sorrow for family still waiting to hear if their loved one’s remains are found, never forgetting September 11th, 2001.
From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher
Oct
A Survivor’s Calling
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mouth agape, eyes widened with fear, I looked on to what my world had been. Everything I lived for was swept up in a distant array of mud, debris and…corpses. Even through my grief, I knew the landslide had chosen me, to avenge everyone’s lives that came to an end in this short, devastating moment. This was my calling, which I would live through for the rest of my life, bearing their dreams.
Standing strong, even until this day, I recall this distant memory. With tears beginning to well in my eyes I see hope glimmering from the future.
From Guest Contributor Danielle Simpfendorfer
Mar
The Retreating River
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Peering through the tinted windows, she saw the river’s glittering trickle and the constellation of shiny debris scattered over the vast expanse of sand. Plate-sized, they glinted in promise. Starfish? Shells? Ornaments discarded as the river retreated to curl down in a corner?
Sliding back the glass, she blinked. Stark sunlight shone down on a thousand shell-bright paper plates, discarded as family picnics retreated to idle their way home, say their twilight prayers, curl down in a corner, and let the television flash blindly off their faces.
The train blew past the retreating river with barely a sigh, as always.
From Guest Contributor Aparna Nandakumar
Aparna lives in Calicut, India, and writes poems and short stories. Her work has previously been published at Atticus Review and A Story in 100 Words, and is forthcoming at Cafe Dissensus and Red River Review.
Jul
Starburst
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
I remember being hurriedly pushed toward the flying ship by panicked voices howling peril. They spoke of a great heat inside me.
What was happening—?
Somehow, it was too late.
Now, all around me is twisted metal, smoking wreckage. My body throbs. Soot covers my hands and feet. Away from me, the skyscrapers appear spotted and streaked, but near there is only ruination. Debris like leaves. Great buildings that stood here only moments ago are gone. Here I am in the midst of it all.
I’m alone and lost and scared.
And, all the blast lines point to me.
From Guest Contributor Matthew Wells