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My name is Christine Hanson. I am only two years old. I am going for a ride, or that's what I am told.
I am sitting here quietly, next to my mom and dad. I am having a fun time. Everyone seems glad.
Why is he yelling Daddy? Please tell me what' s wrong! Please don't cry Mommy, this ride won't be that long!
Why are we getting up and moving to the back? Why is everyone crying? Why is she being attacked?
What did I do wrong? Why are they yelling at us? Why is everyone screaming? What is all the fuss?
I thought you said that this plane ride would be fun. Is this a game Mommy? Am I it, am I the one? I think I will hide behind you, so that I don't get caught. Daddy this isn't fun anymore! This isn't what I thought.
Why do I see buildings right out the next window? Shouldn't we stop now? Shouldn't we go slow? What was that loud boom? Why do I see fire? What just happened Daddy? We should have been higher!
We have hit a building, the World Trade Center I think. I am slowly dying now. I can't open my eyes to blink.
Where are you Mommy? Why can't I hear your voice? Why did they drive us here? This wasn't our choice.
My name is Christine Hanson, I am only two years old. We were going for a plane ride. That's what we were told.
I'll never go to prom. I wont reach the age of three. Why did this happen to these people? Why did this happen to me?
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