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The setting: New York; the date: September 11, 2001. It's around 8.45 am and I am lying half awake, just after my girlfriend has left for college. I hear a thunder-like sound, and a barrage of emergency sirens all around. But I acknowledge it only as normal New York activity - though at the time it did seem a little unusual. Moments later I am awakened, like the rest of the world, to the horrifying news by my girlfriend's cousin, that the World Trade Center has just been attacked, possibly by terrorists. 8.52 am: loud silence; shock.
The thought of a village boy from Scotland caught up in the midst of the carnage wouldn't have managed an afterthought from even the most withdrawn of people. And the thought of that village is as alien to most people as is New York minus the twin towers. But that said village beholds a scattering of people who held their breaths with more than just sorrow for the victims. Those people sat, and sometimes paced, anxiously in the hope that one of their family members was not within the victim count. That boy from Kennoway, Scotland was not a victim, but it took hours of failed telephone calls before he managed to relieve his worried relatives, and to resign his little village to the unknown once again. Thankfully. And now he relieves himself by penning his experience in the unlikely setting of 'ground zero'. I'm alive - one of the fortunate. Go To Page: 1 |
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