August 17, 1999

 It was August, and it was hot- just like any other day. At night, it seemed to cool down, but the air was so sticky and humid it was hard to breathe in. I climbed onto my small bed, creaking as I shifted positions. For some reason, it was hard for me to fall asleep that night. I got lost in thought, and my eyelids felt heavier by the second. I felt myself drifting away as my exhaustion took over.

I woke up to a feeling of being thrown around. It was violent, and it hit me hard. My bed was shaking, as well as everything in the room. As everything got clearer, I remembered my grandma. She was in the room right next to mine. 

I pushed myself up with all my strength, trying not to get thrown on the ground. And with the strength I had left, I started running. I would’ve done anything to get out of that room. I had to know my family was okay.

I grabbed the metal handle, and pushed the door open. I stepped out, and at that moment, the closet in front of me fell. It was falling towards me, I knew this was over. I wouldn't be able to save my grandma, or anyone else. I closed my eyes, ready to accept my fate. BANG! I slowly opened my eyes, to see the broken closet right next to my head. It had hit the door frame, and not me.

I crawled under the giant weight of all the fallen objects; I had to get to my grandma. I sprinted down the hallway and turned to the first room on the left. My grandma was there, I could see the fear in her dark pupils. I crouched down and hugged her.

“Everything’s going to be alright, just wait for us”.

I rushed out of the room, taking one last glance at my grandma. The rest was more  or less of a blur. I clearly remember when there was a blackout. We were hurrying down the stairs, the walls still shaking as we rushed down. People were huddled up together, praying, standing in shock. 

“GO! GET HER OUT OF THERE!”

My father and another man were rushing out of the building, carrying my paralyzed grandma. I rushed up to them, the rest of the family behind me. We laid her on the ground filled with cracks. There was nothing we could do. We were all on our knees, praying for help.

November 11, 1999

It was a cold fall day, a busy Thursday. It was getting late but I still had a lot of work to do. The office was almost empty, with only a few other people taking care of big stacks of papers. It was around 6:00 pm when I was still working. I had been sitting in my chair, dealing with all kinds of customers. It was a tiring job, but I was patient.

This is the part where the second earthquake happened. It had hit while I was sitting in my desk. The sudden violent shaking started, it felt like the last one, but this time it felt smaller and lasted for a short time.

As the room started shaking, I rushed to get under my desk, holding myself and hovering my hands over my head in an effort to protect myself. I could hear all the things being thrown around, the shelves toppling over.

When the shaking seemed to calm down, I awkwardly got up from my curled-up position and to my feet. I grabbed my bag from the top of the desk and hurried out of the building. 

November 12, 1999

Thankfully, there was no earthquake at work that day. I had gotten back from work and returned to the small house we lived in. We had built the house because it was safer than living in our old apartment. However, it was built right next to the apartment so we occasionally went up there to change and get ready.

When I got home, I went up to the apartment to get my clothes. I grabbed my clothes then headed downstairs to change back in the house. I got in my bedroom and started changing. Then again, it hit.

The ground started shaking, the walls swaying side to side. It was happening again. I could hear screams from the street. I ran out to the street, all I saw was chaos. Buildings wrecked, people in panic. My neighbours were all dead, with so many other people injured. I kneeled down and put my head to ground, trying to protect myself. All I could do was wait for it to end.