Authors Notes: Rated T because of the sensitive matter. I know I'm a little late, but I read Never Forgetting by ncc2011 and I decided I wanted to do a tribute to 9/11 too. I hope they don't mind…
My niece, Ariah (Uh-Ry-Ah) was born three years ago on 9/11, so I used her name in this. She won't ever know exactly what it was like that day, but I hope she'll know for the rest of her life the significance of that day. We live on the other side of the United States, so this story may not be completely accurate. If you find something not right, PLEASE tell me. We'll always remember what happened that day.
Ariah was just a little girl when it happened. It was her sixth birthday that day, September 11th. Most people found it hard to remember the date, but Ariah had no idea that in just moments people would remember that day for many years to come.
It was 8:40 in the crisp September air in New York City. Ariah's mother was walking her to school that day, because her father had taken the car early to work. His job was a good thirty minutes away. Ariah held her mother's hand, skipping along, making sure not to step on cement cracks. It was her birthday after all, and breaking her mother's back didn't exactly sound like a good way to start off the day. In her other hand she held her trusty friend, someone her father had given to her when she was little. And as far as she had known, he was the bravest person she ever knew.
She wasn't usually supposed to take him to kindergarten with her, but because today was her birthday, she was allowed to take things to school that she liked to let all the other kids get to know her better. So Ariah happily held her favorite Sheriff Woody doll in her hand tightly.
Ariah's mother checked the watch on her hand. "Better hurry if we want to get you there on time," she said, smiling that same warm smile she had every morning.
Ariah looked up to the sky, seeing an airplane flying above. She always enjoyed looking at the airplanes. "Look mommy! An airplane!" she said excitedly, pointing up to the low flying plane.
Her mother looked at it, her smile disappearing. "Isn't it… a little low?" she murmured to herself. She froze on the sidewalk. Ariah tugged on her hand.
Many other people from up and down the street seemed to be suspended, tracing the path that the plane took, hurtling downward. Some screamed, crying the pilot and copilot must've been injured. But then they saw it take a screeching turn, whirling overhead, strait for one of the twin World Trade towers.
Ariah, although not being very old, felt a sudden feeling of horror, as so suddenly a rush of people around her started to run away in terror. The Trade Center was less than a block away.
Abruptly a loud explosion filled the air with smoke, showering down bits of paper, chunks of the broken building, and glass shards. Ariah's mother seemed to break out of her trance as her child's had trembled. She was roughly pulled with the flow of the mobs of people flooding the street. People abandoned their cars. Some people fell, only to be trampled on by the ongoing crowd.
Ariah started to cry, trying to hold onto her mother's hand as tightly as possible. But as they progressed further to possible safety, Woody slipped through her fingers, and automatically she let go of her mother's hand. She realized immediately the mistake she had made, as she heard her mother screaming her name, struggling against the crowd.
She was only six years old.
Ariah scrambled to pick up her Woody doll, tripping on the curb. Large tears rolled down her face as people ran past her, not giving more than a sideways glance. She called out for her mother and father desperately, but was then drowned out by another explosion.
Time seemed to slow down. Ariah clutched Woody in her frozen arms, sobbing silently. And then, from nowhere, a soothing voice started to talk to her.
"Ariah… calm down… it'll be alright," it said softly. The little girl sniffed as it continued. "Be brave, Ariah. Someone is coming… You'll get back to your mother."
She raised her scraped face from the cement, finding a man running towards her. He was a fireman.
In little time he scooped her up in his arms and proceeded to run far down the street where people were struggling to take shelter. A woman with tears streaming down her face noticed the fireman and sprinted to him.
"Mommy!" cried Ariah from his arms. He put her down and she scrambled to her mother, holding tightly to her again.
"Thank you," she whispered very quietly, wondering to whom had tried to comfort her earlier.
She didn't notice the small smile of relief that her Woody doll gave.