Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Change

He sits, staring at the four glasses in front of him and blinks several times before reaching out in an attempt to pick one up. He fails miserably and crashes to the floor in a heap.

“Show’s over, Macready. Go home!” a voice says from above him. Slowly and awkwardly, he pulls himself to his feet using the stool as leverage. He looks over at the barman, swaying from side to side, trying to focus his vision.

“Fuck you, Joe. I’m still good,” he slurs.

“Bullshit. That’s the second time in the last five minutes you’ve pancaked to the floor. Go home! Cathy’s going to be pissed at you already. Don’t make it worse.”

“Don’t act like you fucking know me. Don’t act like some high and mighty son of a bitch. If you don’t serve me, I’ll find somewhere else that will.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit overdramatic? He’s just trying to help,” a husky voice whispers in his ear. He spins around in a volatile loop, searching the room with half-closed eyes for the owner of the voice.

“W-W-Who the fuck! Who the FUCK do you think you are?” he yells to the nearly empty room. Hands tightly grip his shoulders and shove him forward.

“Get the fuck out, and don’t bother showing your face around here for a while. Next time, I’ll do more than ruffle your clothes, you little prick,” Joe says as Macready is pushed through the doorway and crashes onto the footpath outside. He scrambles to his feet like a baby giraffe first learning to walk. The footpath lashes out at him violently, smashing him in the face. He lies there, feeling saliva flow from his mouth, forming a puddle beneath him. After a few moments, he tries to pick himself up from the ground, this time with more grace and determination. Eventually, he steadies himself on the side of the building and grips his side as a sharp shot of pain rips through him. He lunges forward and vomits five hours’ worth of alcohol into the gutter, then clumsily wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Fucking cunts!” he mumbles under his breath as he takes an uneasy step forward.

“You’re pathetic,” a voice hisses into his ear. He spins around in fright, but once again, there is no one there.

“W-W-W-Who the fuck are you?” he yells as he continues to spin uncontrollably until he crashes into the wall and once more to the footpath. When he finally opens his eyes again, he finds himself tightly bound and chained in a dark, cold room. Instantly, he struggles for freedom, his heart racing in panic. Then he notices he is not alone, as a figure hides in the darkness.

“W-W-W-Who the fuck are you? W-W-What do you want?” he yells.

“I don’t want anything from you, you pathetic piece of shit. And who I am, well,” he says, walking out of the shadows. Macready’s jaw drops open, and his eyes widen as he stares at himself. “I’m you, or, in a few moments, I will be.”

“W-W-W-What the fuck are you talking about? W-W-Who are you?”

He laughs, grabbing Macready by the hair and shaking his head vigorously.

“I’m your replacement, Simon. Seems you’ve worn out your welcome, and it’s time for a change.”

“W-W-What? What are you talking about? What’s fucking going on?”

He laughs again and smiles, a wide, toothy smile. “Don’t worry, sugar puff. Neither of us will remember this in the morning, and by neither of us, I mean me. Because unlike me, you’ll be nothing but a series of mistakes that I will atone for. It’s how it works. Change being for the better and all that.”