When Towers Fall
No single word could describe it.
No single word could illustrate the pain and torment of those that had lost a loved one that day. A single word couldn’t encompass the damage that the attackers caused, physical and emotional. Nothing short could describe the fires, the smoke, the dust, and the rubble.
No single word, but many.
Fear. Death. Hopelessness. Pain. Disbelief. Shock. Anger.
All on the day the towers fell.
On that day, we saw our nation grind to a halt. The skies were empty, devoid of traces of man and Mother Nature. A cloudless day. A godless day.
But I saw plenty more.
I saw a great symbol of our country collapse into dust and rubble, and I saw its twin follow suit. I saw the terror on the faces of the people I helped, all wondering the same thing: why is this happening?
There were things I didn’t see. I didn’t see my friends get killed. I didn’t see their bodies disappear under the mountain of molten steel that usurped the mighty buildings.
And then there were things that I didn’t want to see, and yet I couldn’t look away.
People choosing their own fate, escaping the flames and plunging hundreds of feet to their deaths. Bodies, some intact, most not, littered across the hills of rubble.
I didn’t want to see any more of it. But the smoke had swallowed the entire southern tip of Manhattan. The smoke didn’t go away. The horror wouldn’t go away.
And neither would she, not until she had done her duty.
When she showed up in my apartment a week after the attack, I didn’t know what to think. As I came to my senses I realized I must have been hallucinating, because there was no way that something like that was just sitting on my sofa, giggling.
A horse. A tiny gray winged horse. She talked with a girl’s voice.
Should I have been afraid? Probably, but she didn’t seem like a threat.
Then again, neither had Mohammed Atta. How’d I know his name? The whole damn country knew his name, but I knew it for different reasons.
I knew it because he killed my brother, my best friend, and about a thousand innocent people.
But I wasn’t afraid of her. She walked up to me and sniffed my hand, recoiling slightly. I guess she didn’t like the smell of ash on my hands. But she nuzzled my hip, and out of instinct I patted her head like she was a friendly dog.
Curious, isn’t it? I should have been in shock, seeing this talking pegasus in my apartment, one with very strange eyes and a very heartwarming giggle. But I wasn’t shocked. I hadn’t been expecting to come home to a winged horse on my couch, but then again, I hadn’t expected a lot of things that week.
She told me about her kind, a race of horses (or ponies, as she called them) that talked and lived like humans, but without the big fancy steel buildings. She told me about her land, Equestria, how it was maintained by two royal sisters, one of day, the other night.
I asked her why she was here.
At that point her eyes drooped and she frowned. She said that the princesses of Equestria had felt a great disturbance in a faraway land, and this young pony, curious and giddy as she seemed, ventured to find the source of the disturbance.
She found it, and from the forlorn look on her face, I’d say that she wasn’t expecting this, either.
And then she said she wanted to help me.
I thought about that for a long time, eventually forgetting that the pony was even there. A creature from another land wanted to help me. What could I say to that? Yes? No?
I asked her, can you bring my brother back?
She shook her head and frowned.
I asked her, can you bring my buddy back?
She shook her head and frowned again.
I asked her, can you make this nightmare go away?
She didn’t shake her head but rather gave me a hug, and as she held me in her hooves, crying tears from those wild-looking eyes, and I felt warmth that I hadn’t felt in so long.
It was not the kind of warmth that I had felt from the fires. That was evil heat from a fiery monster that claimed the towers. No, this was loving warmth. I felt her heartbeat on my chest. Eventually I hugged her back, and we were locked in embrace, the two of us, man and pony.
When the hug dissolved she looked up at me, sniffling.
She asked me my name. I told her, and then asked for hers.
Ditzy Doo. What an odd name. Unique. I liked it.
She asked me what I did. I told her that I fought fires, saved lives, and helped people. She said that she worked for the postal service, delivering letters to other ponies. I don’t know why but I hugged her again, and she smiled and closed her eyes. I ran my fingers over the feathers on her wings and across her furry back. Her smile nearly blinded me.
She helped me.
She helped me?
I looked at her and gasped. There was a hole behind her, and through that hole I could see grassy hills and bright sunshine. She told me that it was her portal, her way back home. I felt a flutter of envy, but it passed and I told her that I understood, that I knew she had to go back to her ponies.
She kissed me on the cheek, asking me if she had helped me. I say yes, Ditzy, you’ve helped me more than I can imagine. Your compassion picked me up. Your kindness gave me wings. You did very well, Ditzy.
She smiled and took a step through the portal, but just as she was about to leave, she turned around and looked at me, and her eyes were straight. She said something to me.
When towers fall, people rise.
And she stepped through the portal and vanished. My apartment was empty.
Outside the sun was shining through the haze, and I went to the window, hoping to see something new.
But no, the urban jungle was still there, and the ruins of the Twin Towers still smoked.
I looked at my hand and saw that it was no longer shaking, and then I did something I never thought I would ever do again.
I smiled.
