#ThursThreads Week 293 : You’re Better Off Here With Me

It was 0530 hours, and the police arrived at the front door of Samantha’s home. They didn’t even pretend to be polite. They arrested Samantha’s parents, and took Samantha with them, to put her in protective services. One officer tried to keep them safe from harm. “You’re better off here with me. I can protect you from them. And whatever it is that’s blowing shit up.”

Samantha looked around, and saw nothing abnormal. But she spoke anyway. “You’re there, aren’t you. Watching.”

A voice from nowhere answered, “Yes.” The officers drew their guns. “I’m watching. And if you, or your parents are hurt. In any way.” I paused. The officers pointed guns at Samantha.

She nodded, “I know.”

I didn’t speak for a moment. The air was still. The neighbors watched, peaking from their windows, and standing on their front porches. “If they hurt you. I’ll know. And I’ll kill them all. Every last one of them.”

“Please,” she whispered, “hasn’t there been enough violence. Enough shooting. Enough dead people?” She waited a moment for me to answer, “Wasn’t what happened to Michelle enough?”

“They want everyone dead.” The officers swung their guns everywhere, looking for my voice, looking for me. “Even you, Samantha. Even you.”

“Why?”

“Because. You’re different.”

The officer next to Samantha spoke, “Who are you?”

“I am the violence.” My voice came from nowhere. “Birthed by blind hatred. That hatred dies, I go away.”

They never found me. No matter where they looked.

247 Words
@mysoulstears


Yet another part of the ongoing Armor 17 story. It’s Week 293 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 95 : This Place Is Mine

Hank stood on his back doorstep. It was his first weekend home from the stupidity of everything. He was fire-breathing angry about having been arrested for child abuse. He’d never laid a hand on Jessica. He’d just tried to get her to behave properly. He’d just locked her in her room to stop her from wandering around the neighborhood in the middle of the night.

He’d done that for her safety!

And it hadn’t been his fault she wouldn’t eat. She’d had the opportunity every morning, and every evening. He made sure she knew she could eat any time she wanted to.

The whole thing had gone to court. He’d been found guilty, of course, and sent to therapy. They took him from his home. Made him spend weeks in a hospital enduring treatment for no reason! He’d done what they told him to. And they let him out. And he was home.

He stood on his back doorstep, and looked at the back yard. Everything needed cutting, and edging, and his gardens needed weeding. He started toward his tool shed. “This place is mine!” He pulled out his lawn mower. “And I’m going to make it into what I want!”

As he worked, he felt his life returning to normal. He was happy his daughter, Jessica, wasn’t around to get ill, and cry, and get her headaches like she did every time he took care of his yard. Without her there, he could finally be normal.

248 Words
@LurchMunster


I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 95. It’s a little clip from the NaNoWriMo story I am working on Hope you like it. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.