#ThursThreads Week 291 : You’ve Got Him Worried.

Samantha was in tears. Again. On the school bus ride home. Boys and girls were being mean to her. They kicked her shins as they walked past where she sat. They threw pencils, spitballs, even small rocks. “We should just kill all your kind, and solve the problem!”

The bus driver cheered them on. “You tell that thing! Give it what for!”

When the bus got to Samantha’s stop, they blocked her in, and half the bus got off. Samantha was terrified. She knew they were going to hurt her. Beat her up.

That’s when she heard a voice, though no one was there. “Just sit here for a moment. It’ll be OK.”

Something invisible struck the bus driver. Hard. Samantha heard bones break. The driver pitched face first into the steering wheel. “Grow up, little boy,” that voice spoke a second time.

The doors to the bus became mangled, and bent, the glass in them exploded, and the doors would never work again. There was a noise. A gunshot. Someone had a gun. It fired several times. The kids outside the bus panicked, and ran in all directions, terrified. “Someone has a gun!”

“You can get up now, Samantha. It’s safe to walk home.”

Samantha slowly stood up. “Whoever you are. I hope you know. The sheriff. You’ve got him worried.”

I laughed. “I’m counting on that.”

Samantha walked home, with the sound of sirens getting louder.

She knew very soon, hell would ride into town.

247 Words
@mysoulstears


Yet another part of the ongoing Armor 17 story. It’s Week 291 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

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#ThursThreads Week 290 : About Damned Time You Got Here

It scared her, certainly, but Julia had to use the restroom. And with all the chaos around transgender people, and bathrooms, it made her nervous when she had to use a restroom somewhere. But it was especially scary since Michelle had been destroyed the way she’d been destroyed. And the stories on the news about normal people involved in her death. It scared her.

But, she had to go, so she headed that direction. And two huge men followed her. “Christ, this is not good.” As she approached the ladies room, they stepped in front of her, “Women only, boy.”

That’s when everyone heard this magic voice speak, but no one saw who it was. “Oh, there you boys are. About damned time you got here.” The two men looked at each other. The left one sort of floated up into the air, and sailed backwards into the cinder block wall of the building. The right one sort of folded in half, and seated himself on the bench outside the ladies room as he tried to remember how to breathe.

“Nice of you to guard the door for the ladies, boys, but I think they’ll be just fine without your help.”

I figured I should be polite to Julia, “Miss Julia? The police will likely try to arrest you, and your friends, starting tomorrow morning. Just cooperate. Don’t fight. And I’ll take care of everything.”

I left Julia, and a couple dozen people standing there, wondering what had just happened.

250 Words
@mysoulstears


This is Part 17 of the Armor 17 story. It’s Week 290 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

#ThursThreads Week 289 : I’m A Danger

It was Sunday night. Barbara was on her way home from work, after the store she she was a manager at closed. It made her nervous to walk on the street, alone, after dark. Especially since Michelle had been murdered. With a previous legal name of Bart, Barbara knew it was a risky thing.

That night, right outside the apartment building she lived in, three men surrounded her. They all had ski masks on. They had bats, and knives, and guns.

Barbara knew it was the end. She knew she was going to die, just like Michelle had. That’s when a voice from nowhere spoke, “Go home, little boys. Before you get hurt.”

Barbara looked around, trying to see who spoke. Given I was invisible in the armor, she failed to see me. The men, thinking it was a joke, raised their bats. I shot the left one in the left leg, and then the right leg. The other two froze. “I’m a danger, little boys. Go home.” They drew their guns to shoot at anything. I kicked one in the groin, hard enough to lift him off the ground. I punched the third in the face, leaving broken teeth, busted lips, and a broken jaw.

“I wondered when they’d try this.” I had the armor call the police. “Barbara. Tell the police what happened when they get here. Tell them I said I’ll do what they won’t.”

I believe Barbara stood there until the police showed up.

248 Words
@mysoulstears


This is Part 17 of the Armor 17 story. It’s Week 289 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

 

#ThursThreads Week 288 : That’s What Everyone Says

It was Saturday, and Harry didn’t work. Instead, he went to his work shed, “Saturday. Time to go huntin’.” You can imagine his surprise when he opened the door to his shed, stepped inside, turned on the light, and his phone range.

Harry answered his phone, because it wouldn’t stop ringing. It wouldn’t stop ringing, because it was me. “Good morning, Harry! Do you feel like running today?”

“Who is this?”

“‘Cause if I was you, I’d run like hell.”

“Who is this!” Harry was getting angry, which I thought was fine, and seriously funny.

“Look at the ammo stockpile, Harry. Then, run like hell.”

Harry looked, and saw the IED sitting on top of two hundred boxes of AR-15 shells. The IED had a large LED clock on it, that read 10, and started counting down.

“Time to run, Harry.”

“I’ll get you for this!”

“Harry, that’s what everyone says. Now shut up, and run.”

Harry ran from his work shed just as the IED went off. Followed by several thousand rounds of ammo that effectively blew his shed to hell, AR-15s and all.

I spoke on his phone once more, “Told you to run, Harry. You should listen to me.”

Harry hugged the dirt, and screamed into his phone, “Whoever you are! I’ll get you! You’ll see!”

“Oh, Harry. Do you remember Michelle?”

He didn’t answer.

“I be expecting you, Harry.”

I hung up.

235 words
@mysoulstears


I finally got around to writing part 16 of the Armor 17 story I started way back in Week 239 of #ThursThreads. I really should write more. It’s Week 288 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

 

#ThursThreads Week 287 : I’ll Say It Out Loud

Since Harry kept cropping up, I decided to pay the good old boy a visit, and learn more about him. Finding him was simple enough, given I had his communications records with Pastor Greg, and Tiffany.

Harry lived in a dump of a house. A shack, falling apart, really. Around 18 miles northeast of the town. It was an interesting neighborhood, filled with mostly unemployed white families, and lots of angry men. I found it fascinating how they gathered into little groups at night, long after their families had gone to bed, and drank beer, and smoked, and talked endlessly about taking back the country that was stolen from them. The land of their fathers.

Harry got back from one of those gatherings that evening, and hopped on his smart phone. Of course, Harry didn’t know how to update his phone, or secure it, so I ran an attack program, and took over all its functions. Harry couldn’t do anything without me knowing it.

What I learned was Harry was well respected in the local segment of Crew 38. Which didn’t surprise me. “Harry. I’ll say it out loud. You’re a racist.” I spent the next hour wading through his phones memory, learning about gun deals he’d brokered, and his own, private stockpile of modified AR-15s, and several thousand rounds of ammo for them.

“Oh, Harry. You’re such a friendly guy.” I knew exactly what to do. “You’re going to have an entertaining day tomorrow. You wait. You’ll see.”

247 Words
@mysoulstears


I finally got around to writing part 15 of the Armor 17 story I started way back in Week 239 of #ThursThreads. I really should write more. It’s Week 287 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

#ThursThreads Week 282 : We’ll Have To See About That

What Pastor Greg couldn’t explain to his congregation turned up on social media Monday morning, after the church was torched. It was great fun to watch him react to the spread of his browsing history, in particular, his visits to the dark web. He started receiving phone calls at dawn, with his most stalwart supporter, Mrs. Simmons, asking if it was true that he regularly watched child pornography.

From there, the phone calls began to happen ever couple of minutes, until Pastor Greg gave up, and turned off his phone, and then logged out of his email accounts.

Around ten that morning, he did what I’d hoped for. He made a visit to a chat room on the dark web, where he started a conversation with a certain person named Harry. Of course, Harry told him not to worry, it would all be taken care of.

I found it interesting how he visited the same Harry visited by Tiffany. I thoroughly enjoyed Harry’s last words to Pastor Greg, “Go visit the page. You know where. It will help you relax.” The page was a live feed of grown men sexually assaulting young girls.

“We’ll have to see about that, Harry,” I made certain to echo Pastor Greg’s video selection to every social media network. It made quite a splash.

219 Words
@mysoulstears


I finally got around to writing part 14 of the Armor 17 story I started way back in Week 239 of #ThursThreads. I really should write more. It’s Week 282 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.

#ThursThreads Week 277 : Nothing Is What It Says It Is

Having caused sufficient chaos where Michelle once worked, it was time to spread the chaos to the rest of her social world. Starting with the church she’d once been a member of. A church that had disowned her.

Churches always have leaders. These are usually called pastors. This one was no different. The pastor’s name was Greg Bishop. It was most entertaining to listen to his prayers to God for several nights. “Thank you, God, for removing that vile, evil demon from our presence, and protecting the good people of this world.” Of course, the other half of his prayers were just as entertaining, “Please, God. Find the foul, vile spawn of Satan that is blowing up cars, and ruining people’s lives, and bring that demon to your justice.”

Ah. Christians. So predictable. Most of them, anyway.

Of course, Pastor Greg wasn’t happy at all when his prayers started showing up on social media. Word for word, thanking God for murder, and asking God to stop vengeance. Pastor Greg had a bit of explaining to do on that Sunday morning, when people at his church started asking why he thanked God for someone’s murder. Although they did kind of understand, since Michelle had been, obviously, a vile, evil person.

Of course, I’m certain Pastor Greg had much more difficulty explaining why the church burned to the ground that Sunday night. “Nothing is what it says it is, Pastor. Like how you’re not a man of God.”

246 Words
@mysoulstears


I finally got around to writing part 13 of the Armor 17 story I started in Week 239 of #ThursThreads. I really should write more. It’s Week 277 of #ThursThreads, hosted by Siobhan Muir. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are always fun to read.