I woke up Tuesday morning to what sounded to me like a plane breaking the sound barrier. A plane flew over my building and then I heard a loud boom. Not thinking much of it, I turned on NPR to get the morning news, only to hear that a plane had flown into the World Trade Center. I rushed to my bedroom window and saw large black clouds billowing out of a tower, six blocks away. Just then, NPR went to static and I panicked. I called my father in Chicago. He and I both turned on the television. Just then, I heard another plane and I screamed, "Dad, I think it's happening again!" Another boom followed and I looked out my window to see a huge ball of fire rise out from the towers. My dad told me it was another plane that hit the other tower. My TV went blank. Paper and black smoke was all over the sky. I fiddled with the radio until I could find another station that could tell me what was happening. I was also being continually updated by my father. In what seemed like just a few minutes later, I heard and felt a low rumble, an approaching sound. I cried out that it was another explosion, but my dad yelled out that the building was collapsing. I couldn’t stop crying or shaking. All I kept saying was All those people, all those people. My windows soon became opaque and I couldn’t see outside. My father and I discussed for a while as to whether I should stay or go, and then I agreed to ask down at the lobby. I hung up the phone with him and as I was preparing to go downstairs, I heard another rumble. The man on the radio screamed that the second tower was going down. I started to cry again, and frantically picked up the phone to call my friend who lives nearer to the Trade Center than I do. The phone lines were impossible; I couldn’t get to her home or her cell. My windows went dark again. I tried calling my father back, but couldn’t. After trying for a while, I finally got through to him. He shouted with relief. He had been trying to get a hold of me as well. We both started to cry and I just sat there crying with him. I looked out my living room window to see a massive exodus of people on the Brooklyn Bridge and the highway. Not long after, they pounded on my door that I had to evacuate the building. I went downstairs and went out into the street with the other residents. It looked like it had snowed outside. People were covered in dust and crying. Someone handed me a mask and offered me food and water. I joined the mass of people that were walking north, only then realizing that it may be a long time before I would be able to go back home.


Back to Stories

Back to Ideas