Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

Satiny petals fall haltingly with the rhythm of the endless ticking. Pieces of pink, blue, white, yellow flowers fall, stop, fall, stop, suspended with a redlight-greenlight cadence. As they touch the earthbound objects, their colors heighten the grayness of reality.

The world is colored in all shades of gray, hung on a backdrop of a clear blue sky. Gray city trees stand in a sea of concrete while the huge gray ship-buildings are anchored around them. I stand on a sidewalk facing the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. It is known to be christened with that important name only by it's name tag placed on the landscaped street corner. Information about this particular ship-building is not known by me, but I do recollect that my sister occupies position as secretary in the section of Urban Planning.

The day is early, the warm white sun is just now falling over the ship-buildings, casting the night's lingering shadows further from their companions. The doors to the Federal Building begin to open, close, open, close, with greater regularity as it swallows the employees that are ready to report for duty. Military recruiters prepare for another day of gathering more young persons for the protection of the nations name. Architects, secretaries, and various government employees, filed in with their minds on their lists of things to do. Several women, dressed in black, walked hand in hand with their children. The children, who dressed in black, skipped to keep up with their mothers who will go to their offices via the daycare center.

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The petals swirl around the bustling people on the street front, hiding, showing, disguising, displaying the faces of those who walk in the sea of sidewalks. Among the throngs of gray colored people, sedans and sportscars, all colored in shades of gray, stop, go, stop, go in the redlight-greenlight cadence. Flower petals fall to their rooftops to settle and be swept away when the rhythm dictates. Among the stuttering cars a red truck emerges. It does not stutter, it does not stop, it goes, until it reaches it's destination. The red shiny paint of the truck blazes like a beacon in a dark room. Nobody notices. A figure, gray, blurred, and unidentifiable oozes from the cockpit of his sea-traveling vessel. He does not stop, he does not stutter, he goes, until he reaches his destination - disappearance.

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The petals fall faster, swirling, tumbling, plummeting in a shower of color to the gray sea. A woman, figure blurred by the streaming petals, walked casually in the sea. She was not gray, but rather colorful. Dressed in a dress of forest green, skin defined only as peachy, and long golden hair stylishly coifed. She smiled as I smiled, walked as I walked, it was the image of me, but was my sister. On her way to work, her small attaché bag swung by her side as she danced between the swarms of people. Her image was lost, for a minute, behind the blaring red truck, but appeared again on the other side. The nine-story ship-building swallowed her.

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick...

A Church bell counted the hour as nine. The petals stuttered, confused by the contradicting rhythms, yet still they fell - silent. The street front was no longer occupied by the swarming, streaming crowds. No longer did the sea-going sedans and sportscars stutter down the streets. Only a few tardies hurried to their destinations in order to avoid a reprimanding stare from their superiors.

Tick, Tick, Tick, Tick.

The world fell silent. The world sat suspended in a second of time. The world was shattered. I stood helpless on the sidewalk, across the street, as the nine-story Federal Building was devoured by the blaring red truck. The sea of concrete and asphalt shook for miles as if a demon under the sea was trying to burst above water. The blaring red truck burst into flames as the axle hurdled towards an unsuspecting sea-going vessel. The contents of the truck licked, ate, gorged on the steel and glass structure, spitting the glass and ripping apart the steel. As if a Veighgan, giving in to his carnivorous urges, consumed all flesh within reach, as his victims screamed, burned, tumbled, and was crushed, one by one, in agony to their deaths. First the children in the day care, then on to the receptionists, the architects, the urban planners, military recruiters, marine heroes, and whoever else that was unfortunate enough to have business on that day.

Floor by floor, the Alfred P. Murrah building sank in defeat against it's hideous and unmerciful villain. Floor by floor the nation's innocence and trust sank in defeat against it's own, turned traitor.

When the dust of crumbled concrete settled on the uneven rubble, when sirens and heroes searched for survivors, when chattering reporters suspected the motives, the Earth stopped turning. The remains of the once great ship-building, christened with the name of Alfred P. Murrah, floated in confusion. Huge steel beams hung tangled and splintered like frayed yarn. Telephones and file cabinets hung, dangling from the last standing structures. And from where I stood, I could see a piece of green dress, snagged on a tangled piece of metal.

The flower petals that fell from the heavens continued to fall until the shock of day turned to night. In the plum black sky the stars and the heavens mourned with tears. On the solid ground of Earth, the people dug, and cried in search of any survivors.