I was 9 years old and in the 4th grade. Our French teacher, Mr. Rioux was teaching us about verbs when our principal came on the intercom to have us all say a prayer for those at the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon in Washington, DC. That was all we heard. We had a fire drill next. It was a chilly day right before fall.
After school, my grandmother picked me up, and she was listening to the radio and crying. I still didn't know what had happened to our country. "Some planes flew into the World Trade Center in New York." Still not understanding, I turned on the TV in our kitchen and finally witnessed the attack. The towers in New York were burning, and Dan Rather told us, "America is under attack; the skyline in New York City will be forever changed."
I stood there feeling bad about whoever was in the plane or helicopter, but not feeling anything ominous... THEN... I see it... It was almost like slow motion but it was moving so fast... So low... You didnít have time to gasp... It hit the second tower and disappeared, and suddenly the biggest fireball I have ever seen in my life just shoots wide and high into an ocean blue sky... Whoever wasnít stunned on the train suddenly screamed as everyone ran to the windows...
Brian (story excerpt)