'Til We Meet Again

"Today on September 11, 2001, at 8:45 a.m. a clear Tuesday morning, an American Airlines Boeing 767 loaded with 20,000 gallons of jet fuel crashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center in New York City. The impact left a gaping, burning hole near the 80th floor of the 110-story skyscraper, instantly killing hundreds of people and trapping hundreds more in higher floors. 18 minutes after the first plane hit, a second Boeing 767–United Airlines Flight 175–appeared out of the sky, turned sharply toward the World Trade Center and sliced into the south tower near the 60th floor. The collision caused a massive explosion that showered burning debris over surrounding buildings and the streets below. America is under attack."

I can still hear the reporter's voice echoing in my mind. The teachers ushering us out of the school and quickly to the buses. My mother showed up, tears pouring down her cheeks as she rusehed me to her small Mini-Coop, still dressed in her work clothes. It's odd. It's been four years now, but I still fall into that same unfeeling numbness every time I hear of 9/11. My father was in that building. My uncle was the one to dig him out, though by that time he was to late. It was the day I lost my best friends, all of them disapearing into the crowds of students, never to be seen again. And here it comes again. That dreaded date when my life turned upside down, and here comes the numbness. The blank expressions, the high tension. Here it comes. Five days and counting.

Your character is either a victum or a wittness of nine eleven. The date is coming upon you again, and somehow, this date will bring them all together and either help with the healing process, or break lives to pieces.

Name:
Age:
Looks:
History: (aka how 9/11 effected you)

Rules: The same as always.

Name: Meliah (May-lee-ah) Tehiro (teh-hear-o)
Age: 20
Looks:
History: "I can still hear the reporter's voice echoing in my mind. The teachers ushering us out of the school and quickly to the buses. My mother showed up, tears pouring down her cheeks as she rusehed me to her small Mini-Coop, still dressed in her work clothes. It's odd. It's been four years now, but I still fall into that same unfeeling numbness every time I hear of 9/11. My father was in that building. My uncle was the one to dig him out, though by that time he was to late. It was the day I lost my best friends, all of them disapearing into the crowds of students, never to be seen again."