9/11 Short Stories

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She looked down at her chipped pink nail polish, her shaking hands placed on her dresser. She immediately regretted glancing in the mirror, her usually coiffed hair was knotted and stuck to her slick neck and forehead. Her green eyes bloodshot and there were cuts along her cheeks. “Rugburn,” she mumbled to herself. She wanted to shower but there was no way she could trust herself not to breakdown once the water touched her. The doorbell rang and she jumped, the jerk sending her perfume bottle onto the floor. She didn’t bother smoothing the crinkled dress and there was no point in tucking her hair behind her ears. She walked with a wild look in her eyes down the stairs and opened the large oak door to see her neighbour, Sally in all her…show more content…
She really didn’t have anything to lose so she finished her glass and put the bottle to her lips. Tilting the bottle back to have the amber liquid hit the back of her throat, other people might have coughed at the heat flowing down into her body, setting her veins on fire and filling her chest full of flames, flames licking at her eyes and setting her heart ablaze. The time ticked on and Missy sat down in front of the television, throwing back the fiery liquid. The man on the T.V. was talking about caterpillars. She hadn’t thought of those things since she was a young girl. “Caterpillar is the common name for the larvae of members of the order Lepidoptera. As with most common names, the application of the word is arbitrary and the larvae of sawflies commonly are called caterpillars as…show more content…
The salt burned the red print from the carpet and she closed her eyes, wincing, only to open them and see a blurry picture of a forest. It resembled the forest she used to go to when she was younger. Missy could remember it like it was yesterday. It was at the edge of her Father’s property and she would disappear there for hours. There were always caterpillars there and she used to have them participate in her adventures. Another tear went racing down her face, followed by another and after a few short minutes, the once fearless warrior from her childhood was replaced by a battered housewife of a cheating bastard. The clock said 8:58 and Missy was shaking again, not from fear but from anger. She refused to allow this to go on. Calmly, she put the bottle down and walked over to the moving picture. She reached out to turn it off, but stopped and turned it up. She went upstairs still listening to the sound of the man’s voice explaining a caterpillar’s cocoon. “The process from egg to butterfly is weather dependent and also depends on the regional climate. It can take about four weeks in the peak of the summer in warmer climates. The egg takes 5 to 10 days, the larva/caterpillar and pupa/chrysalis each take about 10 to 14

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