I Survived 9/11 Novels & Stories

“Flight 189 from New York International, traveling to London. Please proceed to boarding gate 15. I repeat—” Snapping back into focus, I gather my small luggage and make my way to the gate, silently praying this doesn’t backfire—that I manage to survive. Saying my mantra over and over again should be enough to give me the strength to carry on. To let go. To eventually be free. Breathe. Survive. I’ve survived all these years. Another decade—or three—won’t do me any harm.

“I don’t know if I’m doing it right, but I’m trying. I get up. I go to work. I answer my phone. Some days that feels like climbing a mountain.” I looked down at the space between their graves. “I got hurt,” I said quietly. “Someone tried to kill me. I survived. I don’t know how yet.” My throat tightened. “There are days when that feels like a blessing,” I whispered. “And days when it feels like a responsibility I don’t know how to carry.” I lay back fully then, stretching out on the grass, my head resting between their stones. The sky above me was wide and blue, clouds drifting lazily across it.

“Althea—don’t.” But I stand anyway. The noise doesn’t stop at first. No one notices me. Not until I step forward and clear my throat. “Can I say something?” My voice is calm, but it carries. A few heads turn. Then a few more. Eventually, the room quiets. I look around. So many familiar faces. Old allies. People I once trusted with my life. Now, they’re staring at me like they don’t know who I am. “I know what happened was awful,” I begin. “I was there too. I saw the smoke. I helped pull people from the rubble. I carried a child who couldn’t stop crying.”

i said then went straight to my office and see that it's just as i left it four months ago. A while later a knock came to my door and i invite the person in and the ASP entered. " SIr, You're alive" she said. " so, it seem" i said. " report said you died" she said. " yeah, i almost died but i survived" i said. " i still can't believe this" she said. " i was attacked by an unknown gunmen, i don't know who they are" i said. " this is what i want you to do for me, call the press and told them what really happened" i added.

"Is the eleventh. As of two hours ago." "Oh. I see." I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. "Did you know anyone who..." "No, nothing like that. It's just," he pauses again. "9/11 is the reason the US launched the War on Terror and invaded Afghanistan less than a month after the attacks. If 9/11 hadn't happened, maybe none of us would have been deployed to Afghanistan. Maybe we'd all still be alive." "I hadn't realized that. I was too young to remember 9/11 when it happened."

It was one of my men, one of the members of the first responders. My heart swelled up with happiness, I couldn't believe that someone else survived the hit. This is too good. He fell on his knees hovering over me as he checked me up. "Your wounds are deep. How did you survive this?" He asked shakily. I wanted to ask the same question, but I couldn't communicate. He was at the scene that day and I wondered how he escaped unstretched. My gaze darted around the room and I became gloomy as I realized that my mate wasn't back.

But safety was gone. I stood in the corner of the boardroom, my palms damp against the cold glass wall, staring out at the city that glittered as if it didn’t care about the terror we had just survived. I tried to breathe slowly, tried to ground myself, but the echo of the alarms was still inside my ears.

“Try it.” His jaw tightens. “You think I haven’t been through worse?” My voice drops, my eyes locking onto his, filled with every ounce of hatred and defiance I have left. “I survived Ivorygate. I survived being used, being forced, being broken over and over again.” I lean forward as much as the chains will allow. “And you know what, old man?” My lips curl. “I still fucking came out of it wanting men, it only taught me how to hide it.”