Flight 93 - Emily Farnswoth

Flight 93

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Flight 93 was scheduled to fly from Nework, NJ

to San Francisco, CA at 8:00 AM, September 11th, 2001

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September 11th, 2001

7:23 AM

Inside the terminal

::I'm sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep:: BEEP

Hey, sweetie. I'm just waiting on the plane. I know I said I was gonna get on the seven o'clock flight, but it was full. Luckily, this one was pretty empty and I got some good seats. I'll see you in a little while. Give Jessica a hug and a kiss for me. I love you. Kisskiss. Bye. -click-

8:44 AM

On-board Flight 93

::I'm sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep:: BEEP

Hey. Well, we just took off. The plane was delayed for, like, an hour because of traffic or something.

Anyways, we're in the air now, so I'll be seeing you soon. Kisses! Bye. -click-

9:35 AM

On-board Flight 93

::I'm sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep:: BEEP

Honey? Honey, please pick up the phone. I'm on the plane, but there is a problem. Some men have gone into the cockpit and taken over the controls. The others are trying to figure out a way to stop them, but right now, we don't know what to do. Oh... oh, sweetie.... I'm so scared... Honey, do something... call the authorities. -click-

9:58 AM

On-board Flight 93

::I'm sorry, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep:: BEEP

Oh, my God.. oh, my God... honey, w-we're gonna crash it. We're gonna crash the plane. Tell...

tell Jessica mommy loves her. And Honey, I love you. I love you more than life. You are my treasure.

I just want you to know that... I love you... I love you so much.... I'm sorry. I shouldn't cry. Oh! Oh, my god!

They're gonna do it! Oh, sweetheart, I have to go. I love you. I love Jessica. I'll be watching over you...

j-just... just be good. No one will forget what we are about to do.... I love you. Don't forget that. Never forget. Goodbye. -click-

At 10:03 AM, September 11th, 2001, Flight 93 was seen upside-down and swaying over

County, PA

Very soon after, it crashed nose-first into a field. It is estimated that they were going about

580 miles per hour.

44 people, including the hijackers, were killed.

We will never forget them.

Hark! the Trumpet Cries

Hark, men! the long forgotten call.

Each evanescant heartbeat fall.

Beneath the scarlet banners, unfurled,

A thousand sleeping forms are curled.

Hark, men! Hark, lads! 'Tis all forgone.

Count numbers, men, the battle's won.

A thousand lilies, sown with blood,

And pink-lipped poppies amid the flood.

Come, boys, take arms, last declaration!

One final cry for liberation!

Bayonets to bring forth peace,

Until, at last, the bloodshed cease.

Come, Cain! Come, Abel! One last stand!

Let tainted lilies fill the land!

Sound the trumpets, triumphant cry!

Above the corpses, the banners fly-

Until at last, the dawn breaks free!

Laying bare, the world to see,

Side by side, two brothers dead:

One blue, one gray, both stained with red.

And while afar, the Angelus rings,

"God rest their souls," the soldiers sing.

Self - Emily Farnsworth

There is loneliness in obsession.

Others seem not to realize

the turmoil of eternally grinding gears -

all thought bent on your own

nebulous fears-

and the sadness,

and the pain,

from morning until the

last moment of conciousness.

Counting the hours,

counting the numbers,

counting the mouthfuls.

There is insanity in obsession.

The need for control is overwhelming:

I envy your freedom,

and draw my leash tighter.

You offer the delicacy of

human compassion,

and I turn away.

See no evil,

hear no evil,

taste no evil.

I deny your fears

(and mine):

go on smiling for you.

I'm not hungry,

and I smile.

The Achiever - Emily Farnsworth

I have measured my life
In coffee spoons,
In supposed wit,
And the false, gay laughter
Of painted faces.
I have measured my life,
Planned dreams,
Debated progress,
quantified honor,
Saying:
"See what I have accomplished!"
And displayed fans of
Tickets and cards,
Programs and
A thousand reams
Of insignificance
Written in impressive gold ink
I have measured my life
In coffee spoons,
Thinking Words are Deeds
And Numbers are Glory
I have measured my life,
Recorded the fugure
And died -
Buried in my own success.

Opening Lines - Emily Farnsworth

"Skin was so passé, so she began to peel away."

"If I had known about all the red tape that it takes to die, I think I would have become a Republican."

"They were such odd creatures, peeling away their skin at the end of each day, then reapplying it in different huesand patterns, no doubt adapting to their environment in some way that we could not imagine."

"Few recognize the economic benefits of smoking."

"They used history to fuel the inferno."

composure. - Emily Farnsworth

taptaptap

sigh

you glance at me, but I pretend I
                                   don't notice

flip my hair
              knot my limbs

I can hear your breathing

                        and it pisses me off


"don't touch me"
             "I'm sorry"
                         "then say it like you mean it"

sigh- you shift, I tense

          there is electricity between us
I want to move away
but that would
    relieve the pressure of my

                 fury.

                               and you are not forgiven.
no, boy- you have stocked the
           furnace of the devil

Realityland – Emily Farnsworth

The corduroy jungle

Under gray flannel skies

With you, my companion,

Partnering my every crime.

The dry rain of autumn

Is our feathery den

And the summer street

Brand naked feet.

Life is an adventure

And so we waste no time

Unlocking its secrets –

In cabinets and drawers,

Disguised in Mommy’s heels

And Daddy’s good Sunday coat.

Life is an adventure,

Manifest in fertile Spring’s bosom,

Cool earth and bright water,

Sunshine in the part in your hair

And the delightful secrecy

Of hiding under the covers

At the foot of the bed.

Life is an adventure –

Eating ice cream after dark,

And a thousand china giggles

Caught in bubble bath globes.

Two feet, two hands,

Two eyes and ears –

All the better, twice the fun.

Suspicious - Emily Farnsworth

"Parlez-vous francais?"

"Button your coat!"

"Did he hear me?"

"He won't be any help. Stop wasting time."

"This isn't my fault; you lost it."

"I gave it to you."

"Well anyways, it's gone and now..."

"How are we gonna get there?"

"Hey, parlez-vous francais?"

"Asking isn't going to help. We need to get out of the crowd."

"They're too many tourists; everywhere's a crowd."

"You still haven't buttoned your coat."

"I know how to do my job!"

"Hey! Check out the man in the hat!"

"Does he have the bag?"

"I can't see..."

"We need to get to the station. Now."

"Take the picture."

"I think he saw me!"

"Button your coat and let's go."

Life: Too Much to Say, Too Little Time - Emily Farnsworth

It amuses me

that the title of this tale

tells the whole story

Human Nature - Emily Farnsworth

Can you imagine

The power of the sun,

An atomic bomb,

A rocket computer,

All the lights in New York City,

A rumbling engine,

An electric storm,

The swelling ocean,

A beating heart-

All of nature

And man's wires and tubes
               Contained

                            In a single

                                       Glass

                                                     Doll?

Les Jumelles – Emily Farnsworth

Knock, knock! From above my head came the signal: “Are you sleeping?”

Quickly, I responded with four sharp raps to the wall: “No, are you?”

I was itching with excitement. This was the most recent in a series of secret codes my sister and I had developed to appease our childhood need for the clandestine; surely this one would work.
Six knocks and a giggle from the top bunk; she was awake, too.

In the back of my mind, I could hear my father’s warning issued to us not fifteen minutes previously: “If I hear any talking, any whispering, any communication of any sort, there will be severe punishments.” ‘Severe punishments’ usually meant a repeat of this speech in a slightly grumpier tone a few minutes later; my father was not one for severity.

And so the schemes continued: swimming noodles threaded from one bunk to the next as a privative telephone, coded messages written in one of many highly intricate and furtive alphabets of our own device (“4r3 U s/33p!n6?”), even an attempt at channeling the psychic – we tried to read each other’s thoughts, although I maintained that the bunk between us interfered with my reception.

I remember once, my father read us a book about a pair of twin girls who were separated as babies by a witch who spirited away one of the girls and raised her as her own. But despite the distance between them, the girls always knew each other existed because they could communicate through their hearts.
That book always reminds me of my sister and me.

Through every laugh and scheme and broken heart, Nicole has been my partner in crime, my shoulder on which to cry, giggling at my botched jokes and sitting beside me when the world feels as though it is too heavy to bear. There is an understanding between us, tacit and immutable: we are twins at heart. She’s in college now, living hundreds of miles from home, and more importantly from me; I have never felt more like one of those little twins missing her other half.

Often, people remark on how alike we look, how cute it is when we blurt out the same sentence in unison. This observation of the irrelevant amuses me, almost in a pitying sort of way; they have no idea what lies beneath the skin, pulsing through our veins – the inscrutable and infinite love of a sister.

I realize now that I never needed ESP or a cup-and-string telephone to reach my sister; we are, and always have been, like those little twins separated at birth – connected by heart, eternally.

Science - Emily Farnsworth

The chemical process of love

Is this:

Eyes connect- look away!

Hot flush, trembling heart

Electric charge

Gathers in the gap between

Your leg

and Mine

And yet my fingers struggle

To connect

With yours

Clear your throat-

Science dictates

The the air will become

Arid- a product of

My frantic pulse

My Ruby cheeks

Global warming is founded

In Gasping Affection

The language of love is native

To none

But rather

Is a random effusion

Of Vocal Confusion

So I sign-

Look:

Every twitch of the finger

And flip of the hair,

Every tap of the foot

And glance in your direction

Is a code:

I love you.

Queen Anne's Lace - Emily Farnsworth

And she danced, surrounded by
Tiny skirts of white,
As silvery delicate as a spider's silk.
And crushed velvet petals whispered,
Singing the song of twilight.
Sugar-scented breeze lifted her hair,
Taught her words from a land unseen.
Tiny child, asleep in the grass,
Caressed by the evening calm.
And silk-soft leaves
Wink in the fading light.
Royal beauty hidden by stone.
Behind the wall of man,
Until she found the portal in the shadows.
Spring favored it well, she thought,
Stepping daintily past slender stalks.
And spring passed to winter as she slept.

Crystal Rain and Me - Emily Farnsworth

I wonder what it would
Be like to be caught in a teardrop
Suspended in cool blue
A warm cocoon of my own emotion
Wrapped around me, an embrace
Soft like a kiss, twinkling like starlight
And it would hold me forever
Hiding me away, clinging to an eyelash
Long and quivering and cold
Until I splashed down a high cheek
Sliding over skin
And I fall, and my cocoon is broken
Pieces of crystal rain
And me

Painting Sunsets - Emily Farnsworth

I wanted to paint
You a picture,
A tribute
Of my love,
So I gathered
A dozen rainbows
And a thousand
Diamond stars.
The ocean
Was my canvas,
The sunbeams
Were my brush,
And I painted
You a sunset,
So we could
Sit and watch.