One foot in front of the other, steps running deep into the bowels of the very earth itself, as I descend into the depths I feel its presence more than I ever have before, it’s almost suffocating, the pressure on my back, the tightness of its hold around my throat, the deeper down I go, the more it’s grip takes hold, and slowly, it’s whisper grows into a scream, a scream that’s all I can hear, it screams my name, it screams profanity, it screams for me to stop, my passenger, my wicked self, slowly as I descend, slowly as I take the final trip, I see what they all said was true, and it is indeed waiting for me, my sin, my sins, they wait, they all wait for me to pay my payment, to earn my rightful price for what I did during my life….
Published by Matthew Tonks
People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time, who dreams of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.” So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness. View all posts by Matthew Tonks