Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Today’s story is brought to life by the following prompt…

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS August 31, 2024 

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “school.’” Use it as a noun or a verb; use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

A Degree Not Schooled

Keith smiles as he playfully grips a handful of his hair, then tosses it back. “I was schooled by the best of the best, bred to be better than anyone else—better than those who made me what I am—and yet,” he says, his smile quivering as he pauses. “And yet, when I ascended above those who nurtured me, fear raised its ugly head, and they tried to trip me up so I would fall back below them.” He pauses again and stares off into the distance, his eyes glazing over as imaginary thoughts dance through his mind. Then he turns, and his smile is now a grin, wicked and full of sin.

“Do you remember what I told you when we were locked in that hole of a place they called school? Do you recall?” he asks. Devon nods gently, his face pale, riddled with guilt and despair.

“Good, good. I’m glad that you do, and you do it so well. Why, you even wet yourself for good measure. Well done, for you have assured me of your answer, without the need for repetition or violence.” He almost sings as he dances around the dusty old room, with the wanting grace of a ballerina but the skill of a child without talent or timing. Devon lets a snigger escape his lips, and Keith comes to a sudden stop, glaring at him with wild red cheeks and furious intent.

“What is so funny that you try to hide your guilt?” he cries overdramatically, throwing his hands in the air for effect.

Devon shakes his head in disagreement. “N-N-Nothing, I-I-I swear. It was merely a f-frog caught in my throat, n-nothing more.”

Keith’s face twists, and he pulls his head back in disgust. “A frog caught in your throat? You mean, like an actual green, hopping frog that’s caught in your throat? Is that what you’ll have me believe?”

Desperately, Devon tries to contain himself, but the tickle in his stomach becomes too much, and he bursts into loud cackling laughter. But as quickly as the laughter escapes, Keith silences it by leaping on top of him and clamping a hand tightly around his throat.

“What is so funny now? What ridiculous answer will you give me? Maybe this time it’s a goat that has gotten stuck in your throat, or maybe even a snake, instead of this make-believe frog you’ve told me about! Instead, why don’t you open up wide and let me peer inside, then I can decide what animal lurks within!” Keith says as he tries to pry Devon’s mouth open with his free hand.

Devon gasps for air as he struggles to pull himself free of Keith’s hold. He pulls, he tears, he claws, he digs, but the more he fights, the tighter Keith squeezes.

“Stop fighting, stop tearing, stop pulling at me. Relax and be compliant, then I’ll set you free; otherwise,” he growls as he grips Devon’s throat with both hands and squeezes tighter than before, “I will strangle your very soul from your body, then reach my hand down your throat and pull whatever creature you have stuck there free!”

Devon falls limp and still while Keith continues to squeeze, his lips curling and his brow awash in sweat. Seconds cascade into minutes as he continues to tightly grip Devon’s now lifeless corpse, and soon those minutes are more than five but less than ten. He lets out a stuttered breath and relaxes his grip, looking down into the dead mask of the boy he once cherished.

“Now, let us see what animal hides inside,” he says as he pries open Devon’s mouth and reaches in.