Scene of Devestation-Elizabeth

          Dust pours over her bruised and bleeding body, snaking into her breathless lungs and encasing her in gray nothingness.  She lies on the mahogany-colored carpet, beneath everything. Somewhere, among the debris and destruction, lies her family, tired and scared and half alive. 

         Her tangled almond hair clings to her back as she struggles to pull herself to the light. She tries to catch her breath in order to call for help, but her dry coughing will not cease. 

          Above the rubble, chaos flickers about, spinning and flipping, through the heads of onlookers. They weep and scream and stand, helplessly. Each agonizing minute drags by at the speed of a snail, divided by a million. And still they lay under the remains of the church, waiting, expecting. 

           She strains her neck, exerting all of her energy and will power to reply to the calls she hears. The words are distant. The deafening boom had damaged her. But she heard and she called out to them. And they were saved. A scene of great devastation  and pillage met their eyes. But when recalling the terrorizing events of that morning, they were only thankful to have lived.