9/11 Creative Writing

One of the worst feelings in the world is having all the warmth around you ripped away in 2 seconds, and the second worst is it being 4 in the morning. It doesn’t matter what you are doing that day, waking up by having your blankets pulled off is not an enjoyable feeling. When I open my eyes it takes me a couple seconds to remember what is really happening, I peer around the room and see my mom walking out of my room “Jessica, get up, you need to get moving or we will be late getting your cousins”.
I grumble angrily and roll out of bed. Being 9 it shouldn’t take me long to get ready but some how I manage to be slower than a sloth. Pre-grass stained jeans, an old t-ball shirt, dark blue rubber boots, and a pony tail and I’m ready to go. Stepping
I grab Hannah’s hand and we both slowly follow Danny into the dark unknown. The inside is musty and warm, a few more chickens wander around aimlessly, we walk to the right and come up to an old wooden ladder.
Danny slowly started to climb up the ladder, “Well what are you waiting for? Start climbing”
I follow Danny up; he had already reached the top and was opening the trap door, with some shoving we swung the door open. Dust and cobwebs fell onto our heads, coughing we reached the upper level. 10 rows of 10 foot cages spread out in front of us, the smell of ammonia filled our lungs and stung our eyes, we didn’t stop to talk, we all took off running down the closes ile, minutes of running in the heat that felt like hours tired us, as we reached the stairs on the other side our eyes were running and our lungs and went through hell. Its those surreal moments of pain that strengthen you.
Although it really wasn’t a life threatening moment, those times were small things felt like feats that no one could over come. Venturing into the unknown at a smelly chicken barn felt like going into the jungle, an unknown and foreign land. Climbing up an old latter covered in .cobwebs felt like climbing up the steepest