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arathreelFirst floor.
A man sits upon his bed, head within his hands as finger massage in small circles the pounding at his temples of thoughts trying to escape. It felt, in all truthfulness, as though he had been sitting here in the stagnant recesses of his squalid room for a good three days now. The repercussions could finally be felt within his stomach as rough hands from years of hard labor rubbed over his face, scrubbing himself back to reality. The room reeked.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Ten steps. Second floor.
An elderly woman approaches her cabinets with caution, raising one wrinkled hand to lay upon the handle of the door which would soon lead her into the vast array of metal pots and pans that have been collected over the years. All she wanted was a small saucepan of little known use in order to make herself some soup now that her microwave has broken down. With a small tug to the door, the fragile woman was almost thrown backwards by the avalanche.
One. Two. Skip a few. Ninety-nine. One-hundred. Twelfth floor.
An amiable woman sits upon a bed much too small and squat for herself, hands folded in her lap in a demure manner as she waits. It didn't take long for the child to pick his favorite Dr. Seuss book from the stash all tumbled together at one corner of the room and come flying back towards his mother, arms wide apart. It seemed simultaneous, her sweeping him in her arms and opening the book at the same time. She cleared her voice and began to read.
“One fish, two fish. Red fish, blue fish.” Sixteenth floor.
A teenager, alone for the weekend, sat slung haphazardly upon her family's worn couch with phone in hand. The gossip being yammered upon the phone sounded like not much more than a couple of chickens bawking about in the yard, scratching for seed. Laughter would peal out through the room now and again before the decision to have a party was not only tangible, but final. Kicking feet back to the floor, the young adult hung up the phone to check the booze stock.
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety nine bottles of beer. Seventeenth floor.
Soft wacka-chicka music filled the bling-bling bedroom of the bachelor pad. The room smelled atrocious as the man couldn't figure out which soft and gentle aroma would work best for his newest lady tonight giving the entire room, instead, the feeling of the aftermath of some great perfume war. Sadly, this man was one of the casualties. Straightening his lapels and trying to slick back his hair one more time, he dimmed the lights to the room and left.
This is ground control to Major Tom. Ninth floor.
A man, just coming home from a day of stock trades, finds himself pulling off his shoes and collapsing in a chair where his cat lays upon the armrest. A purr is issued as the man opens up the paper that was hinged under his arm for the walk home, spreading out Wall Street upon his lap with a mutter. The cat is not as respectful for the man's work as she soon finds the paper a wonderful retreat from the armrest and takes up a new vacation home there.
Down one-half. Up three and a half. Down two. Floor ten.
A child sits at the dinner table, already having been cleared of dishes, with his father, working on his latest school project. It didn't take long to decide on what he believed should go in the deep hole where the towers once stood, but actually creating the memorial out of house hold items did not prove to be as easy. His father was up beat, though, and had out the super glue along with various paints for when they were finished. His medium was toothpicks.
Round and round and round she goes. Where she stops... Twenty-seventh floor.
The woman was so furious to find out her men of umpteen years had been cheating on her. Keys wriggled in the lock as she broke into the silent apartment and slammed the door shut. Oh, it was time for payback. Hefting the large window open, the first thing to take flight was his computer where he met all of these younger women. She watched as it sailed down to the street below and listened for that beautiful sound before raining his clothing down, one armful at a time.
Breaking up is hard to do. Fifth floor.
He was just a small little child, not more than five years old. He had family values deep in his heart, though, as he decided he should wake his mommy and daddy up during their evening naps, by making them a great dinner. They didn't hear as he took the pans out of the cabinet. They didn't hear as the food seemed to tumble out of the fridge. The didn't even hear as sparks began to fly and fire gripped various things. They did hear when the fire gripped their child.
Hurry, hurry, drive the fire truck. Hurry, hurry, drive the fire truck.
Fire licked through the building, pointing out every beam of faulty construction as the firemen rushed to collect and evacuate the people. No one knew how many people lived in the high-rise or even how many people were in there at the time. Certainly no one in the building knew anyone else. Or maybe they were too fretful over what was happening that they were unable to remember. The story made the news and many kind citizens pulled together to house the survivors.
A man sits upon his bed, head within his hands as finger massage in small circles the pounding at his temples of thoughts trying to escape. It felt, in all truthfulness, as though he had been sitting here in the stagnant recesses of his squalid room for a good three days now. The repercussions could finally be felt within his stomach as rough hands from years of hard labor rubbed over his face, scrubbing himself back to reality. The room reeked.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Ten steps. Second floor.
An elderly woman approaches her cabinets with caution, raising one wrinkled hand to lay upon the handle of the door which would soon lead her into the vast array of metal pots and pans that have been collected over the years. All she wanted was a small saucepan of little known use in order to make herself some soup now that her microwave has broken down. With a small tug to the door, the fragile woman was almost thrown backwards by the avalanche.
One. Two. Skip a few. Ninety-nine. One-hundred. Twelfth floor.
An amiable woman sits upon a bed much too small and squat for herself, hands folded in her lap in a demure manner as she waits. It didn't take long for the child to pick his favorite Dr. Seuss book from the stash all tumbled together at one corner of the room and come flying back towards his mother, arms wide apart. It seemed simultaneous, her sweeping him in her arms and opening the book at the same time. She cleared her voice and began to read.
“One fish, two fish. Red fish, blue fish.” Sixteenth floor.
A teenager, alone for the weekend, sat slung haphazardly upon her family's worn couch with phone in hand. The gossip being yammered upon the phone sounded like not much more than a couple of chickens bawking about in the yard, scratching for seed. Laughter would peal out through the room now and again before the decision to have a party was not only tangible, but final. Kicking feet back to the floor, the young adult hung up the phone to check the booze stock.
Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall. Ninety nine bottles of beer. Seventeenth floor.
Soft wacka-chicka music filled the bling-bling bedroom of the bachelor pad. The room smelled atrocious as the man couldn't figure out which soft and gentle aroma would work best for his newest lady tonight giving the entire room, instead, the feeling of the aftermath of some great perfume war. Sadly, this man was one of the casualties. Straightening his lapels and trying to slick back his hair one more time, he dimmed the lights to the room and left.
This is ground control to Major Tom. Ninth floor.
A man, just coming home from a day of stock trades, finds himself pulling off his shoes and collapsing in a chair where his cat lays upon the armrest. A purr is issued as the man opens up the paper that was hinged under his arm for the walk home, spreading out Wall Street upon his lap with a mutter. The cat is not as respectful for the man's work as she soon finds the paper a wonderful retreat from the armrest and takes up a new vacation home there.
Down one-half. Up three and a half. Down two. Floor ten.
A child sits at the dinner table, already having been cleared of dishes, with his father, working on his latest school project. It didn't take long to decide on what he believed should go in the deep hole where the towers once stood, but actually creating the memorial out of house hold items did not prove to be as easy. His father was up beat, though, and had out the super glue along with various paints for when they were finished. His medium was toothpicks.
Round and round and round she goes. Where she stops... Twenty-seventh floor.
The woman was so furious to find out her men of umpteen years had been cheating on her. Keys wriggled in the lock as she broke into the silent apartment and slammed the door shut. Oh, it was time for payback. Hefting the large window open, the first thing to take flight was his computer where he met all of these younger women. She watched as it sailed down to the street below and listened for that beautiful sound before raining his clothing down, one armful at a time.
Breaking up is hard to do. Fifth floor.
He was just a small little child, not more than five years old. He had family values deep in his heart, though, as he decided he should wake his mommy and daddy up during their evening naps, by making them a great dinner. They didn't hear as he took the pans out of the cabinet. They didn't hear as the food seemed to tumble out of the fridge. The didn't even hear as sparks began to fly and fire gripped various things. They did hear when the fire gripped their child.
Hurry, hurry, drive the fire truck. Hurry, hurry, drive the fire truck.
Fire licked through the building, pointing out every beam of faulty construction as the firemen rushed to collect and evacuate the people. No one knew how many people lived in the high-rise or even how many people were in there at the time. Certainly no one in the building knew anyone else. Or maybe they were too fretful over what was happening that they were unable to remember. The story made the news and many kind citizens pulled together to house the survivors.
