This story is a bit of a departure for me.  It definitely does not qualify as “erotica,” but I do consider it to be “porn,” because it features pointless, gratuitous, wanton violence.  I hope you find it disturbing but thought-provoking.

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Michael stood in the window taking in the beautiful spring day. Families strolled by, seeming to shake off the chill of the long winter. Today, he knew, would be perfect. Warm enough to bring out the crowds, but cold enough to warrant a light jacket.

No headache today, for the first time in months. He’d dreamed. The same dream as always, but this time it had seemed more vivid. When he’d opened his eyes, he’d known that this was the day.

Turning back to his work, he whistled a happy tune while his busy hands completed their tasks, things they’d done so many times he thought he could do them in his sleep. He smiled as he thought he’d never have to do this again after today; finally he’d be able to rest.

He’d always known he was born for a reason, but it had taken him almost 35 years to discover his purpose. The Marine Corps hadn’t felt right; apparently, they’d agreed, and they’d parted company shortly after boot camp. The dishonorable discharge had stung. A religious man, honor had always been important to him, and he’d been trying to regain his dignity ever since.

He’d found his answer when he realized that only one opinion mattered. Man’s assessment of him was meaningless. He had to get right with God before he died. Today, he knew, he would do both of those things. He would get right with God, and he would die.

He carefully filled his small backpack. He knew that such packs would be worn by many of the young people attending the music festival, so he’d fit right in.  Looking out the window, he saw that they were already streaming past on the way to the park. Shortly, he would join the throng.

Zipping his windbreaker, he examined himself in the mirror. A few bulges were visible, but they were weren’t all that noticeable. Whistling again, he closed the door to his small apartment for the last time and joined the happy people walking toward the park.

He came up short when he saw the small family just ahead. The woman pushed a stroller, presumably carrying a small child. The man wore a semi-automatic rifle across his back, the barrel pointing down at the woman’s legs. This, he knew, would complicate things. He wondered why God would burden him with such an obstacle, but then he understood.  Remembering the story of Jonah, he realized that the Lord was testing him to see if he was worthy. Squaring his shoulders, he slowed his walk to give himself time to consider this setback, but he never wavered in his conviction to do the Lord’s work.

Watching the ease with which the two adults walked, he considered that the woman might be armed, as well. Obviously a sinful whore, she wore only cutoff shorts, a halter top and sandals. Clearly, she didn’t have a weapon on her person. Might the stroller harbor a handgun? Unwilling to leave anything to chance, he decided he’d have to neutralize her first, before killing the man. The rifle, which appeared similar to an AR-15, would enable him to send that many more sinners to their final judgment before he, himself, was called.

He followed the couple into the park and watched as the woman spread a blanket in the shade of a large maple tree. He settled a few yards behind them. Leaning back against his pack, he appeared to nap, but occasionally scanned the crowd. He waited patiently, as his vision had made it clear that he was to wait until the music fair had begun, when the crowd would be at its peak.

Over the next two hours, the park filled with people. Mostly families, but many young couples, as well. Gathered on the Sabbath to listen to secular, ungodly music.  Soon they’d know the truth.

The show finally started. Frisbee and soccer games stopped and families settled down to picnic and listen to the music.  The crowd swayed to the beat of electronic music. The time had come.

Michael reached into his backpack and removed two Glock-19 semi-automatic pistols. Shrugging the pack onto one shoulder, he stepped forward and pointed one gun at the back of the woman’s head. He fired, then turned and fired a second shot into the back of the man’s head.

Having decided to stick with his original plan, he raised his two handguns and turned in a circle, firing the remaining 32 9mm rounds into those who were close enough to pose an immediate threat. Only then did he pick up the AR-15.

He smiled when he saw that the rifle was equipped with a 100-round extended magazine. Though It fired a relatively low caliber bullet, its muzzle velocity was such that it packed a much bigger punch than his 9mm pistols. It also had a much longer range.

Again, he turned in a circle, firing in short bursts of three shots. At this rate, he knew, he would harvest many souls for the Lord before he was inevitably martyred. He concentrated his fire in the direction of the stage, hoping to kill as many of the diabolical musicians as he could. He was soon surrounded by the sounds of screams and wails of pain. By the time he’d emptied the AR-15, he could hear sirens in the distance.

Reaching into his pack, he retrieved several extra magazines for his two pistols. When police arrived, he was calmly walking through the crowd, shooting one person after another. A sharpshooter’s bullet exploded into his skull.

Including the gunman, 35 people died at the scene. Another 112 were wounded, though fewer than half were shot; the rest were injured in the ensuing panic. Seven of the wounded eventually died, bringing the death toll to 42.

Thank the Lord for good guys with guns!

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(c) Copyright 2014 Jordan Bradders. The author reserves all rights. Permission is granted to download this story for personal use only. It may not be published in any other forum, web site, blog, magazine, granite blocks, golden tablets, parchment, papyrus scrolls, or book without the author’s express prior written permission.