Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

I remember the day we were told Fear In Fear Magazine was mo more, I was sitting in a Sydney coffee shop with good friend and fellow writer Sam Melton. We were both more than surprised, we were shattered. Three days later, after a phone conversation I still to this day can’t remember, Sam took his own life, I recall thinking that lucky bastard, how did he have the gall to do such a thing when I was unable to even place a blunt knife against my wrists without chickening out.

After Clare, my wife, had left with the girls, I was alone, looking back, I don’t blame her for leaving, Fear In Fear Magazine had some sort of hold on me, and all the spare time I had was devoted to writing new exciting stories for each issue. During that time Sam became the closet thing I had to family, so when he decided things were bad enough that he wanted out, he bailed, which, to be honest was Sam through and through. After Sam’s funeral I tried to reestablish some sort of communication between myself and Clare, but she never returned any of my calls, and try as I might, I could never track her, or the girls down.

To be honest here with you today, I never really tried, I wanted to, really I did, but I was so beat up, so down, so depressed, I couldn’t face life, I wouldn’t face another disappointment. So I hid in darkness, and that’s where I stayed until I received a call from an old colleague who worked on Fear In Fear Magazine with me, and encouraged me too look up this blog you now read, fuck, up until that day I didn’t even know what a blog fucking meant, now of course I do.

Why am I telling you all this, I don’t know, maybe because this morning, I picked up the phone and arranged to fly back to Sydney, as an old friend who is long gone supplied me with an address, and tomorrow, I will face my past. You see, some people concentrate on tomorrow, others on today, I’ve been concentrating on things that mean nothing, when I need to fix yesterday, I need to make amend for the lives I’ve lost being part of, for our future is always lost somewhere in our past.

Marty