Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

How do I start this post when all my thoughts are still not sure what they saw, what they heard. When my brain is telling me 1 thing and seconds later something else, I feel like everything I am is being pulled this way, and that way, as I constantly struggle against urges, visions of blood, of darkness, and, of it.

Then there’s the memories, memories that’re like snowflakes, falling down around me, and I wonder how I could’ve forgotten them, how I could’ve blocked them out, when they’re important memories I should’ve never forgotten.

The nightmares, the visions, the blood, I’ve had them before, when I wrote its story all those years ago, when I birthed it into this world, when, when they left me.

When it took them from me.

I know now why I’ve been able to become more than I was before, see, it needs me, it wants me, it needs us, to finish its story.

I’m drunk, but maybe for the first time I can see the world for what it is, a lie, and, I see the blood, rivers and rivers of blood.

Marty