English draft 9/11 Essay

Draft 4 Sip after sip, I repeated this process- the scorching sensation drifted all the way down to my stomach- determined to arrive on time for work. I reached down for my carrier located on the ground in front of me, trying to collect the scattered coins needed for the payment of this untimely morning medication. I glanced up at the waitress before me who was waiting impatiently.
With a hand full of gathered coins, I retrieved my hand from my bottomless carrier. My grip loosened, ready to hand out the coins into the waitress’s hand. However the passing of money stopped as a high-pitched scream was freed by a young man outside pointing to the sky as if it was in danger of diminishing. This single man was soon united by another twenty or so passer-by, gazing up at the sky with a look of shock upon their faces.
I dropped the change and hurried outside, almost falling over my own feet in the process. The sight that appeared before my eyes was dreamlike; it was almost as if I hadn’t woken up and was still in the control of a night-time horror. A cry caught in my throat as if being strangled by undetectable hands. A mixture of animated shades of red, yellow and orange burned through the unwary pale blue sky, coming together with the smoke black as the night, flowing out of the tower. The smoke seemed to devour the sky, removing all possible signs of colour in its path of abolition. Gasps and screams escaped the mouths of the surrounding people who gazed with panic at the once soothing sky line and the previously intact-world trade centre- building. The feeling of confusion changed quickly into panic that surrounded the crowd of people like a contagious disease. I attempted to compel a few words out of my mouth, only for it to sound unrecognisable to any human ears. I tried again, trying to spit out the words loud enough for another to hear. This time the mumble was understandable. “What’s happening?” I stuttered out with the terror holding onto each word. “I’m not sure,” the women whispered, her skin becoming paler and paler as time went by. “It was an aeroplane, I’m sure of it, it was in the air so low, and then...” the man trailed off gazing at the scene in front of him. “How could it have been a plane? Why would it fly so low?” I blurted out, bemused. I seemed to be speaking to myself although surrounded by a crowd; the other previous two people had vanished in the wave of people which was crowding the small street. My heart was hammering out of my chest, trying to find a way out of my stiff rib cage. It felt as though an earthquake was wavering through my body, running its way from my chest as the epicentre. I fell to the ground and concentrated; inhale, exhale. I forced myself to repeat this process in order to attain some form of self-control. Just when I

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