Running toward the finish line, “I can’t wait to see my loved ones” is the echo I hear.

Sprinting the last hundred meters, my pulse racing my nostrils flared, sprinting, sprinting!

BANG! BOOM! As I fly through the air screaming, pain coursing through is the only echo I hear.

What just happened? I wonder as I am paralyzed lying on the hard ground feeling nothing.


Running toward the finish line may be the last thing I remember, “What happened?” is the echo I hear.

The fire trucks screaming down the road, the ambulance sirens screeching, the paralyzingly feeling.

I hear the families crying for the loved ones that may be lost, then a still silent echo I hear.

The sirens and screaming stop suddenly, followed by a wave of more and more screaming.


Running toward the finish line was the last thing my legs would feel, for the ringing of the bomb is the echo I hear.

I tried finishing the Boston Marathon, but the tragic happenings of the bomb got in the way of winning.

I still can’t put into words what happened, but a small memory is the only echo I hear.

The hospital is filled with victims all trying to forget; forgetting, not forgiving.

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