After reading Gemma’s fantastic “drabble”, I decided that I would have a go my self. But don’t expect anything nearly as good.
Once again, this is inspired from our interview with Ms Steinert . It was the story of her brother being a fire-fighter during the 9/11 attacks, that got me thinking, and my imagination flowing.
One last note: I do not know what this is. It’s either a really bad poem, or a really bad piece of writing, or just a Wrioem.
I crawled. I ran. I walked. I cried.
How can metal burn so fiercely? How can it smell so… so… so fiery? How can smoke be so black, as black as space without planets or stars? How can the atmosphere be so broken?
I collapsed. I stood. I continued.
How can every single man, woman and child cry and mourn so perfectly in sync? How can networks cope with so many calls? How can I be alive?
I gasped. I choked. I saw. I fell.
How can dust be so blinding? How can people and vehicles vanish in an instant? How can falling metal make such a horrible clatter? How can spirits be unseen?
I cried. I died. I tried.
How can a dead man walk? How can dust clear so fast? How can a one-hundred-and-ten story building vanish? How can a mountain of metal be so tall?
I returned. I helped. I failed. I died. Again.
How can it happen twice? How can life repeat the same moment? How can so many people can die in the space of a few minutes? How many more?
I stood. I walked. I cried. I saw.
How can so many people run out of a dust cloud? How can streets be so dusty? How can I be so filthy? How can anyone survive?
How can this not be a dream?