9998 I wake up to the sound of music, sweet chimes and loud drums. Around me there is Christmas trees and decorations. "Jouyeuz Noel!" I here people say all around me. It must be Christmas, in France. I walk in to the most merry looking house. People are wearing Santa hats, holding baguettes. Little kids are running around with there new toys. I see a calendar in the corner of the kitchen. It's December 25, in France. Children are running around laughing. The smell of pastries travels towards me, and even though I can't eat, my mouth waters. I walk outside on the street and I see a group of tourist crowding around a mime that appears to be acting out Santa. I smile at the image of the man in the red. All of a sudden the sky seems to darken. There is a small humming noise of a plane, far away. Smiles disappear all around me. Then the screams started. Children start crying, running to their mothers. I don't understand what's going on. Everyone is running down to their basements. Doors are locked and people disappear below ground. The bomb came down. The noise was deafening. Buildings caught on fire, people screaming in terror. It exploded, giving of a tower of heat and fire. Rocks and pieces of houses shot everywhere. Many people will die, they have no chance of surviving this. I see a young girl lying on the ground. I run up to her bit then I notice the her leg has been ripped off. Her face is covered in ash. She reaches her hand out to me. I hold back a scream of surprise when I notice that I can hold her hand. Her pulse is very weak but it's there. Looking at the condition she is in, she must be fighting extremely hard to stay alive. She says to me that she loves them. She says she loves them, her family. She was about to die, and she could see me. That never happened before. I could hold her hand and there was a pulse. Her family will probably never talk to her again, never know what she said before she died. I reach down and softly close her eyes. I find someone's coat that wasn't that damaged by the bomb and lay it on her, hiding the bloody mess that was once her leg. People start to check to see if it is safe to come out. They can't see me, or feel me. I stay by the girl. The girl I will never know the name too. A man that has her green eyes comes towards me. Tears are running down his face, making lines in the ash that is covering him. He kneels down next to her and holds her cold hand to his heart. "Louis" he whispers, "Ma cherie Louis," Her name must have been Louis. A young boy walks out holding hands with his mother. They see Louis's father. The mother collapse on the ground her hands on her face. Tears fall like rain. The young boy closes his eyes and sits next to Louis. The father comforts Louis's mother, but it doesn't help. I walk away, feeling like an intruder to this family. It starts to rain, softly at first then stronger, like Louis's mother's tears. It washes away the ash. The smoke begins to clear. The planes have left, but left a trail in the sky and in these people's hearts. They must of been terrorist. The injured are brought into houses to be taken care of. Blood stains the ground, broken pieces of concert are scattered everywhere.