A Vaulter's Insanity

This is a short story I wrote for my Creative Writing class recently. My teacher really liked it, and so did some kids in my class. I personally thought it was a bit cheesy, but whatever. I decided to share it since I havent been active in a long time, and even when I was, I didnt share a lot of my work. So I present to you...

I could hear screaming, but nothing else. There were a few that were running to the stairs and elevators as fast as they could, knocking anyone who dared get into their way. There were a few others that only stood there in shock, not quite believing what was about to happen, I was one of them.

Then the plane hit, and an explosion rocked the building, knocking every person to the floor. But the sound, the shaking, it didn’t stop. I could feel the room instantly warm up, and keep warming.

And then they were gone; the few that had made it to the elevator disappeared in a waterfall of orange and yellow flames. Then the waterfall turned and forced its way to me. The flames never found me, but the blast of heat knocked me backwards, and for a moment I could have sworn I was dead. The wall of fire was burned into my vision, and a ringing sound hid all the screams I’m sure were there.

I groaned; it was the first sign I was still alive. I tried rolling over, but failed, I couldn’t get the momentum I needed. I unclenched my eyes and saw the normally white tiles reflecting the orange fire that I knew was consuming the room. A man in a suit ran past me, not even looking towards me to see if I was alive. I worked my way to my feet, and did a self check. Nothing was broken, but everything hurt. My skin felt like I was standing in the middle of a fire, and in a sense, I was. In every direction I looked, desks and papers were on fire. And then I saw a man consumed in flames running to the window. It all seemed unimportant, as if I were only watching a movie, and none of this was actually happening. And all I had to do was just stand here and watch and wait for a hero to emerge, the scene to end, some epic climax in which everything was set right.

Then slowly my hearing started coming back, and with it, my ability to think. There was no hero; there was only these people and me. The scene wasn’t going to end till I moved, and the climax was either my escape or my death.

I looked around, trying to figure out what it was that I was supposed to do to help this man that was about to die. And slowly I came to the realization there was nothing I could do to stop him. Silently he fell through the blown out window, no sound passed his lips. No one noticed this mans last act but me. And in a moment, I felt more alone that I had in my whole life.

For some reason I still couldn’t move, I still couldn’t act. I just stood there, mesmerized by the chaos, the insignificance of a single death. My father used to always say that it was in the midst of a disaster that people showed who they truly were. It was the events like this that defined a person.

Strength to move, intellect to act, and motivation to have this moment define who I was slowly crept in. I walked awkwardly towards the closest person, a man with severe black burns all over his body lying sprawled out across the floor. His pant leg was on fire. Using my burnt hands, I patted it out. I could feel the heat and feel my burnt flesh, but it didn’t seem to bother me. It wasn’t pain, I was past that point.

I checked his pulse, nothing. I moved my fingers around desperately looking for a pulse, but his body was still. I stood up disheartened. I went body to body, searching each one for a pulse, each time moving a little bit faster until I was running. But they were all dead. The truth sank in, and as I looked around the room, I came to the realization that everyone on this floor that had survived had already started their descent down the stairs. I was the last on the whole floor to have acted. I was the only person on the whole floor to have thought of saving others. I was the last living person on the floor.

The flames around me grew, half the room was being consumed by the fire. I ran to the stairs, ready to follow suit those that had self-preservation on the mind. But then I saw the stairs. There were the steps leading down, and then there were the steps leading up. I could still act, I could still help. I could save one person from certain death. I knew I could do that. I knew that if there was even one person that I could help, that my life would mean something and that my life wasn’t without purpose. Even if no one else remembered me but that one person. I knew my decision. I was a fool, a brave fool, but still a fool. I heard screams, and I started my ascent.

People ran past me, pushing and shoving me out of the way. I was a hindrance to their safety. I stepped to the side, and watched the chaos. I saw two men and a woman get pushed down, and then trampled by the procession of frantic survivors. I could hear bones crunch, and I watched each one as they took their last few breaths. Then a woman was pushed over the safety rails and my heart jumped, and then it sank even as she fell. I wondered if she had family, a husband, kids. I felt sick to my stomach, but I held it in.

The procession of people thinned out, and now most of the people that were coming down were carrying people. These were the men and woman who my father had talked about. These were the modern day heroes. This is who I wanted to be. I asked a woman if she needed help carrying a kid not much older than me. She nodded, sweat from the effort and the heat dripping from her forehead. I picked up his legs while she carried him beneath the arms, and we walked down one step at a time. Soon we reached a floor and there were firemen running towards us. One of them took the boy and threw him over his shoulder effortlessly and told us to follow him.

“Wait, I’m still healthy.” The woman seemed even calmer than the firefighters if that was possible. “I need to go back up and help. There’s no way you have enough men to do this all yourselves. Especially after the second buildings been hit. I’m a Marine, I signed up for this.”

“What building?” I asked.

“The North Tower was hit with a plane. I saw it out the window.”

My heart sank. This wasn’t an accident; this was an attack on the country.

“Both of you get out of this building now, were here to help you, not get help from you. Go!” he pointed down the stairs to emphasize his point.

“No.” They both looked at me, “This is my country too. Were under attack. If we don’t help, then we are no better than the suicidal maniacs who did this.”

The woman finished my statement “It’s a good day to die. I don’t care what you say, were going back up.” She turned around and ran up the stairs, I took one look at the firefighter, and then turned around and followed her. I wondered briefly if my father would be proud of me, or call me a fool.

For two hours the Marine and I ran up and down the stairs, carrying people one at a time. The firefighters soon started to become desperate, and would just hand people to us before they went back into the flames to rescue someone else. They were the true heroes here. They were risking their lives, I was just carrying people. But then the other building collapsed. And we knew that it was a race against time and fate. Would this building collapse too?

A firefighter handed a small girl over to me; I couldn’t believe she was still alive, and wasn’t even sure if she was. “Get out of here now! We got the warning, this buildings gonna collapse!” I nodded. My arms, shoulder and legs were all so tired; I couldn’t believe I hadn’t collapsed yet. I knew this was going to be my last trip.

“What about you guys?”

He shook his head “Were staying!”

I nodded, understanding what that entailed, and then he turned around and ran back up the stairs. I couldn’t believe he could still run like that after all this, or how he could still be so selfless in the face of certain death.

I turned around and started a fast but weary walk down the stairs. A few times I almost collapsed, or dropped the girl. I wondered where the Marine was, she had helped me carry almost every body so far except for the last few, all children. But I knew exactly where she was; she was with the firefighters, serving her country.

I finally reached the bottom floor. It was almost unrecognizable from when I last saw it this morning. I was not far from the exit when the building started to shake. I started sprinting. Screams from outside and the few that were still inside grew louder and louder. The building was collapsing. I ran as fast as I could while carrying the little girl over my shoulder, not even sure if she was dead or not. I knew that if I dropped her, I might be able to get out in time, but I kept her little body over my shoulder and continued my sprint. I made it through the exit, and had made it thirty feet before the building completely collapsed. The power of the impact forced a wall of dust and debris at my back, shoving me into the air. And then I blacked out.


Advice, criticism, praise, flames, its all welcome. I went for the crappy "dont tell the reader if the character lives or dies" ending because I didnt know myself if he lived or died. No ending sounded good to me so I kind of just didnt have one. So advice on that would deffinitly be helpful.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

Tom88

This type of fiction isn't really my cup of tea, but you've definitely made a solid attempt.
Your scenes are vivid and well put together. Your tone is accessibly casual, but then there are the odd smatterings of some class imagery (waterfall of orange and red flames), and some heavy characterization that probably should feel cheesy in the context of a short, but strangely work (the insignificance of individual deaths, the fear, the isolation).

There were a couple of instances where I see potential for a stronger second draft. I can't quite find them all now...

...And all I had to do was just stand here and watch and wait for a hero to emerge, the scene to end, some epic climax in which everything was set right.
I think these comma breakages would work better as short, stinted sentences. For tension's sake.

I could feel the room instantly warm up, and keep warming.
I felt the room suddenly warm, the heat ascending, showing no signs of stopping.
I worked my way to my feet, and did a self check.
self examination.


I don't know, I might be nit-picking. It just felt like a few of your sentences fell a little flat. It was only really noticeable to me in contrast to how strong your characterization was.

The ending was fine. I'm a big fan of these particular types (when they're satisfying, and not poorly executed). Closure is for cowards There's a twisted sense of justice leaving a reader baited, and leaving a story open to interpretation.
The subject matter was 900lbs heavy for a short, it's kind of become my mantra that short stories work best when they're of believable scope, feature a plot that doesn't require a tonne of emotional investment to hit home, and doesn't meander about with irrelevant back stories.
I kind of cringed when I realized what this story was about (great opener by the way), but you held my interest through the strength of your writing.

All up an enjoyable piece.

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A Vaulter's Insanity

Thanks Tom. That was probably the most helpful review Ive ever gotten on anything Ive ever written. Ill definitely have to go back and see if I can fix some of those things. And as in most of my work, there are sentences that could be worded better. You mentioned the waterfall and the room warming sentences. I never felt strong about those, so thanks for pointing that out and confirming my insecurity about those. haha

And when you say you cringed when you realize what it was about, I know what you mean. But why exactly is that? I know the feeling where you just cringe when you realize what a story is about, but have never really understood it. Is 9/11 a cliche to write about?

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

Tom88

I don't know if it's a cliche necessarily. It's still pretty modern subject matter.
I couldn't really give you a definitive answer, I guess it's just the way terrorism has absolutely saturated the media in the last five+ years.
Movies of this theme irk me in just the same way. I don't know if I'd call it a cash-in, I mean it has all the qualities of great entertainment (suspense, etc), there's just only so many times you can hear about explosions and decaying architecture. After that the very notion feels stale.

That's just me personally though. I've never been one for stories about international affairs, or religious hierarchies, or artillery. Nor the aftermath stories.
Some people probably lap that up.

Your welcome for the critique, lol, I actually thought I was abit vague. Can never quite say why I precisely like or dislike a piece.

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A Vaulter's Insanity

Well the reviews I get are usually even more vague than that, so this was really helpful. Thanks once again.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

The girl left behind...

I would offer a better review, but my clase is about to end and i most likely wouldn't be able to finish. I enjoyed this story. Very much infact. The 9/11 attack hit me and my family hard so i am a sucker for stories pertaining to them. I agree with alot that Tom said. I am a huge fan of endings like yours. It leaves it all up for me to decide. Thus making me part of the story.

Oh by the way, He lived...

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"When his life was ruined, his family killed, his farm destroyed, Job knelt down on the ground and yelled up to the heavens "Why God? Why me?" and the thundering voice of God answered, "There's just something about you that pisses me off." -- Stephen King

A Vaulter's Insanity

Thanks TGLB. Means a lot to me that you would come and give any review.

And I tend to think he died and the little girl he was carrying lived and became a truly great person because of the sacrifice of the man. But then again, Im not writing anymore, so its just an idea.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

mi is happy

I really enjoyed this AVI! It gave me chills. I love reading about brave people doing good things no matter what the costs. Most people fail at making endings, but you rose above the masses and made a nice shocker, leaving it up to the readers interpretation.

This part reminded me a line from other story or movie or something. I don't know what, but I've heard it before...

Over all it is a very solid piece of work. Keep it up!

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Typos are very important to all written form. It gives the reader something to look for so they aren't distracted by the total lack of content in your writing.
-Randy K. Milholland

A Vaulter's Insanity

Probably sub conscious plagirism. I do it a lot. :/ But thanks Mi.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

mi is happy

Hey it's fine I had to stop writing an entire book because it reminded me too much of Ender's Game.

__________________
Typos are very important to all written form. It gives the reader something to look for so they aren't distracted by the total lack of content in your writing.
-Randy K. Milholland

A Vaulter's Insanity

Such a good book! haha. Just finished Xenocide and am eager to get back to a library to get the next one. He may be one of my favorite writers of all time.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

mi is happy

Oh I really liked that one. Just finished the last one not to long ago. It wasn't as good as the others, but still great.

__________________
Typos are very important to all written form. It gives the reader something to look for so they aren't distracted by the total lack of content in your writing.
-Randy K. Milholland

A Vaulter's Insanity

Which one is that. Ender in Exile? I think that one just came out, not sure though.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.

mi is happy

Oh I meant Children of the Mind. Ops

I did like Ender in Exile. It was a nice read.

__________________
Typos are very important to all written form. It gives the reader something to look for so they aren't distracted by the total lack of content in your writing.
-Randy K. Milholland

A Vaulter's Insanity

Thats good, those are the next two books on my list. I cant wait.

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If life didnt suck...We'd all fall off.