(c) That the World Will End at a Half-Past Six [PG]
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I am Revolution :: Words :: Stories :: Non-Fiction
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(c) That the World Will End at a Half-Past Six [PG]
by gloria- Sat 12 Sep 2009, 4:43 am
Title: That the World Will End at a Half-Past Six
Author: me
Summary: September 11 fic
Rating: PG
Notes: lyrics are from Tinderbox by Elton John.
Nostradamus said, 'I predict
that the world will end at half past six.'
What he didn't say was exactly when.
Was he listening to the radio?
Was he listening to the government?
He ran through the streets, coughing and gasping. Smoke was already clogging his lungs, his tongue already gluey from the soot. He turned back for just a moment to see the North Tower burning. He saw the plane’s backside sticking out of it, the ash that was plummeting alongside larger shapes whose identity he didn't want to know. He stumbled, and slightly unwillingly turned back so he could watch where he was stepping.
Well he got us spooked anyway
we'd been running hot up until today
but a wind of change blew across our sails.
We were coasting on a winning streak.
We were kings until the power failed.
He saw a tall woman walking in the other direction and stopped in front of her. “Don’t go that way!” he choked.
“What? Why?” the woman asked, clearly hoping she wasn’t speaking to someone mad.
“A plane!” he gestured behind him, “A plane. Just hit the North Tower. It’s - it’s coming down.”
She looked shocked. “You’re joking,” she finally spat malevolently. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped around him.
He reached out and grabbed her arm. “I’m not kidding here, lady,” he snapped back, “If you go that way, you could die.”
She looked at him, took a moment to size him up, and then looked towards the towers in the distance before back at him. Something must have made her believe him, because she slowly nodded and turned back. “Thanks,” she said shortly, and walked away.
We've been living in a tinderbox,
and two sparks can set the whole thing off.
Rubbing up together around the clock.
Lately we've been getting more roll than rock,
you and me together in a tinderbox.
Two sparks can set the whole thing off.
Rubbing up together around the clock.
Lately we've been getting more roll than rock,
you and me together in a tinderbox.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying very hard to make his heart slow down as he took out his cell phone and dialed 911. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a woman’s voice asked him, calmly. It irked him just how very calmly she was speaking.
“The Trade Center!” he managed to get out, “It’s coming down! A plane...A plane just hit the North Tower!”
He ducked instinctively and gasped again as he heard - and felt - a shockwave of sound. He turned back to look, to find that he couldn’t see the towers anymore. He didn’t bother trying to go back and see it – instead he simply began running again.
Godzilla came in disguise,
tore the building down right before our eyes.
Kept the needle out of the red balloon.
Was he worried we might go too far?
Maybe wind up rhyming moon and June.
“It’s...It’s all coming down,” he said as the woman tried to figure out what was going on. “Something else just hit.”
“Thank you sir, emergency teams are on their way.”
“Hurry!” he said, and hung up, putting the phone back in his pocket as he continued running through the masses of people towards where his daughter was, at preschool a few blocks away.
The sun descends down in Mexico,
while a fancy car back on Savile Row
shows the price of fame leads to overkill.
Things are gonna have to change -
some holes along the road get filled.
He slammed the door open on his way into the preschool and ran up to the front desk. “You have to get all the kids out of here! Call their parents, get them away from downtown.”
“Why?” the man seated at the desk asked.
“The...The Trade Center’s been hit! I don’t know what’s going on – there’s a plane in the North Tower. I need to get my girl! Please, where’s my daughter?”
“What are you talking about, sir?”
“The World Trade Center,” he snapped, speaking slower this time, trying to make the man understand. “Something’s gone wrong. The flight plans or something, I don’t know. All I know is that the North Tower’s coming down.”
“Are you...” the man glanced around and leaned closer to him, “Are you serious?”
Pressure's gonna cook us if we don't unlock it,
Gun’s going off if we don't uncock it.
We've gotta climb out of the other one's pocket,
or we're gonna burn out on this beautiful rocket...
Author: me
Summary: September 11 fic
Rating: PG
Notes: lyrics are from Tinderbox by Elton John.
Nostradamus said, 'I predict
that the world will end at half past six.'
What he didn't say was exactly when.
Was he listening to the radio?
Was he listening to the government?
He ran through the streets, coughing and gasping. Smoke was already clogging his lungs, his tongue already gluey from the soot. He turned back for just a moment to see the North Tower burning. He saw the plane’s backside sticking out of it, the ash that was plummeting alongside larger shapes whose identity he didn't want to know. He stumbled, and slightly unwillingly turned back so he could watch where he was stepping.
Well he got us spooked anyway
we'd been running hot up until today
but a wind of change blew across our sails.
We were coasting on a winning streak.
We were kings until the power failed.
He saw a tall woman walking in the other direction and stopped in front of her. “Don’t go that way!” he choked.
“What? Why?” the woman asked, clearly hoping she wasn’t speaking to someone mad.
“A plane!” he gestured behind him, “A plane. Just hit the North Tower. It’s - it’s coming down.”
She looked shocked. “You’re joking,” she finally spat malevolently. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped around him.
He reached out and grabbed her arm. “I’m not kidding here, lady,” he snapped back, “If you go that way, you could die.”
She looked at him, took a moment to size him up, and then looked towards the towers in the distance before back at him. Something must have made her believe him, because she slowly nodded and turned back. “Thanks,” she said shortly, and walked away.
We've been living in a tinderbox,
and two sparks can set the whole thing off.
Rubbing up together around the clock.
Lately we've been getting more roll than rock,
you and me together in a tinderbox.
Two sparks can set the whole thing off.
Rubbing up together around the clock.
Lately we've been getting more roll than rock,
you and me together in a tinderbox.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying very hard to make his heart slow down as he took out his cell phone and dialed 911. “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” a woman’s voice asked him, calmly. It irked him just how very calmly she was speaking.
“The Trade Center!” he managed to get out, “It’s coming down! A plane...A plane just hit the North Tower!”
He ducked instinctively and gasped again as he heard - and felt - a shockwave of sound. He turned back to look, to find that he couldn’t see the towers anymore. He didn’t bother trying to go back and see it – instead he simply began running again.
Godzilla came in disguise,
tore the building down right before our eyes.
Kept the needle out of the red balloon.
Was he worried we might go too far?
Maybe wind up rhyming moon and June.
“It’s...It’s all coming down,” he said as the woman tried to figure out what was going on. “Something else just hit.”
“Thank you sir, emergency teams are on their way.”
“Hurry!” he said, and hung up, putting the phone back in his pocket as he continued running through the masses of people towards where his daughter was, at preschool a few blocks away.
The sun descends down in Mexico,
while a fancy car back on Savile Row
shows the price of fame leads to overkill.
Things are gonna have to change -
some holes along the road get filled.
He slammed the door open on his way into the preschool and ran up to the front desk. “You have to get all the kids out of here! Call their parents, get them away from downtown.”
“Why?” the man seated at the desk asked.
“The...The Trade Center’s been hit! I don’t know what’s going on – there’s a plane in the North Tower. I need to get my girl! Please, where’s my daughter?”
“What are you talking about, sir?”
“The World Trade Center,” he snapped, speaking slower this time, trying to make the man understand. “Something’s gone wrong. The flight plans or something, I don’t know. All I know is that the North Tower’s coming down.”
“Are you...” the man glanced around and leaned closer to him, “Are you serious?”
Pressure's gonna cook us if we don't unlock it,
Gun’s going off if we don't uncock it.
We've gotta climb out of the other one's pocket,
or we're gonna burn out on this beautiful rocket...
Last edited by Smashed Pumpkin on Mon 30 Nov 2009, 7:58 am; edited 2 times in total (Reason for editing : checked: SP)
gloria-- Literary Mentor
-
Number of posts : 1860
Age : 31
Location : murder city. -
Re: (c) That the World Will End at a Half-Past Six [PG]
by Jack Skellington Sat 12 Sep 2009, 6:49 pm
![(c) That the World Will End at a Half-Past Six [PG] 203854](/users/3315/34/70/27/smiles/203854.gif)
omg Carmen. seriously. stop being so good at writing.
Jack Skellington- Crusader
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Number of posts : 3690
Age : 29
Location : The Wood Between Holidays -
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