Okay I'd recommend listening to Hero by Skillet while reading this. I was writing the whole thing while blasting it. But that's just a suggestion.
Half a century ago… the news would show a mention of a handful of deaths… and my people would be horrified, sickened, shocked. They couldn't believe that it was true at first… And after they finally accepted it as the truth… They were stunned by the fact that it was there for them to see.
Half a century ago, violence was something that everyone would shy away from, something that made my people shake with terror. The thought of a human killing another human would make them feel sickened. The thought of a natural disaster shook them to the core and they would do everything to make everything better.
Half a century ago… my people… were more protected… from themselves.
Now, in this life time… a vicious murder is portrayed on the news with some rather disturbing pictures… and my people take a moment to be shocked… before shaking their heads and patiently waiting for the next story. Now, in this life time… my people only cringe lightly at the announcement of victims of war.
Now, in this lifetime, my people are immune.
It takes a mass slaughter… here… in my country… for my people to be alarmed. For them to be frightened, it takes a concentrated area of blood.
Hurricane Katrina shocked them… but… the thought of the deaths didn't last as long as they used to before people began raising money to help the survivors… Yes, there was national unity… but… fifty years ago… my people would be grief-stricken by the news of families being broken apart by the force of Mother Nature.
9/11. That was one of the moments… I saw the past in the present… I felt the pain screeching through me and ripping into my skin… and I could feel my entire country cry out in horror.
They were scared. They were crying. They were falling apart and clinging to strangers, sobbing into each other and screaming for the end. The horrors… they grew… first it was one… then two… and before noon, it had totaled to four. My people… they reached out to each other and clung to each other in their fright. In one of the darkest hours ever seen… my people reached out to each other, built up such strong nationalism, horrified by the death, the pain.
On the fourth plane… the plane that didn't make it to its target… my people united… bared their true spirits.
They are the heroes.
How can I be a hero when I'm so torn… when my people are so numb to death… to pain. What has happened to my people? Where has the horror gone… how can they be so apathetic? Can't they see the pain? How clouded has their vision become…
The newer generations are becoming more and more immune to the terror of war, the shock of brutality. In the end… they're becoming less human. These… these are my children…
Can I let them do this to themselves? They're changing this country… the way it used to be… where's the horror in their eyes… the terror screaming past their lips… they're cold… numb… immune…
How could I let it get this bad?
Alfred F. Jones
United States Of America
As for the fourth plane: This was the final plane crash, discovered in a field in Pennsylvania, and was apparently headed for Camp David. The passengers on board all teamed up together and stormed the cockpit and took down the terrorists that hijacked the plane. They spent quite a bit of time planning it, getting their hands on anything to use against the knife-wielding men, calling family, friends, 911, air control, airports. The most famous words, now commonly used in the Middle East by US troops, were uttered from a young man to the others on the plane ready to go overtake the terrorists - "Okay, let's roll."