I sat in the small room waiting silently for them to arrive. I glanced around at the small accomidations that have seem to withstand the terrors of the times. Pictures of children, the old, some smiles, some frowns. Pictures of families, pictures of couples, pictures of different indivudals filled the sides of the wall. It was these pictures that held the true meanting of survival, because with each one. Each distinct feature, every gone outline, laid a soul, who with misfortune, and at the same time, luck of the heavens. These were just the small beginning. Of pictures of survivors. Not survivors of something like disease, or a great feat of terror such as sky diving and all. No, these were true survivors of perhaps the most horendous thing to be seen on Earth. The thing that killed more than 4 billion souls, and left everyone touched. Some were luckier than others. True, some still had their families, how will forever be a mystery, and some still had their beliefs. God bless the ones that still believe.
Then look at the others. The others who are left to wonder everyday of their lives, Why them? Why did they, out of so many live? How could we, as a soicety truly rebuild with that question so lingerly lying in our hearts. It was from this, that a new birth to life was given. At least for me anyway, because I look at those pictures and I see me. I am one of those survivors up there. I was one of the lucky ones that managed to survive. And now I was going to share my story of what it truly means to be free, to live, to continue, and to fight for what you believe in.
I look at the door, as she walks in. The small blonde reporter, who ageed to talk with me, since so many are not willing. Who would believe that after such a thing that no one will want to tell their story. True, some are just down right...out of this world, but there are so many others who wait in silence to share. Maybe it's the fear of trying to relive those days..months,...years. Couldn't blame them either, but now as the reporter grabs out her recorder my tale is ready to be told.
This is my story...she clicks on the recorder and it begins...