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Timmy Swanson: ISIS the NJExt Generation (standard:Psychological fiction, 2635 words)
Author: Nathaniel MIllerAdded: Jul 23 2016Views/Reads: 624/301Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Beaten down, a HS kid, gets even with those who hurt him by joining ISIS with the help of a Syrian Girl.

Timmy Swanson: ISIS the next Generation By Nathaniel Miller 

Standing alone, Timmy stood a no one at the transit station, a typical
all-American teen boy of fifteen in a suburb of Oklahoma City, Ok. He 
is an outcast, a loser, in which girls shun or make fun of, bullies 
beat up on, jocks prank, and people generally ignore. He is about five, 
five, one hundred and twenty pounds, has sandy blond hair, blue eyes, a 
round atypical face. (His nose is large, has buck teeth, big ears, and 
a partial mono brow.) The boy was minding his own business when 
classmates found him standing at the station in his hometown, well 
after school and in the late afternoon. 

These were the same kids that earlier, put a “Kick Me” sign on his back,
making kids kick him, or breaking into his locker to stack it, where 
his books would fall on him when it was opened. Also causing things to 
happen, and getting him to be blamed by the staff. He was intelligent, 
but not that intelligent for the pranks that were pulled. He was an 
ordinary kid. Now, as he stood there, he waited for the bus that would 
run by his house from downtown where the school was located. 

“Look it's that nerd, Timmy.” One said, and Timmy turned, recognizing it
as Aaron Jones and with him was his cohorts that he ran with. They are 
the other three that Timmy recognized as Daniel Nelville, Pete 
Mitchell, Phoenix Skyfeather.  They all hated him and he knew it. They 
all ran toward the young lad, who took up a defensive posture, ready 
for the four. 

“So where are you off to Timmy?” Pete sneered, as he reached out and
pushed him. 

“None of your business.” Timmy said with a snarl, and kept himself
facing them, backing against a nearby pillar so they could not get 
behind them. Their patented maneuver would be to imitate the WWE and 
put a sleeper hold on him. 

“What a fricking nerd.” Phoenix said, as he reached for Timmy's book
bag, and pulled at it. 


“Let's check how much homework you won't be doing.” Phoenix said with a
chuckle, and taking it away, that he took out his switch blade knife 
and it opened with a click. He cut open the bottom of the bag letting 
his books and papers fly everywhere. 

Timmy knelt to get the papers and books, but for his trouble was kicked
in the head. He was grabbed and held as they punched him in the 
sternum, and in the face. Timmy resisted and got an arm free and 
proceeded to hit Aaron in the nose, breaking it and blood gushing 
everywhere as he went down.  The other turned him, and they kneed him 
in the guts again, taking the wind out of him as they struck him 
repeatedly, making him go down where they kicked at him. 

A police whistle sounded. 

“Jiggers it's the cops!” Aaron stammered, and they all bolted, leaving
him to lie on the ground in a pool of his own blood from his mouth and 
nose. The cop walked on by, totally ignoring Timmy and his plight at 

“This ain't no Holiday Inn, you can't sleep here.” He rumbled, “If you
don't have a ticket for a bus, you must move on.” He walked on. 

Timmy lie on the cement platform a while. He felt a hand on his shoulder
a moment later, and he turned his head, his eyes focusing on what 
appeared to be a young woman clad in black from head to toe with a 
headscarf on her head. 

“Are you alright?” She asked politely. 

“I have seen you around.” She said, “I have seen the ugly thing those
boys do, how would you like to get even with them?” 

“H-how can I?” Timmy whispered, “I can't even take care of myself.” 

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