|Timmy Swanson: ISIS the NJExt Generation (standard:Psychological fiction, 2635 words)|
|Author: Nathaniel MIller||Added: Jul 23 2016||Views/Reads: 460/200||Story 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. “Hey.” “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 first. “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.” Click here to read the rest of this story (201 more lines)
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