Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The Kids Love It

The car comes to a screeching halt, smashing into the side of another, forcing it off the road and into a ditch. Voices cry out, followed by an explosion. He stands overlooking the carnage, watching with bewildered eyes. His bottom lip quivers as one of his hands slowly reaches up and grasps his chest. The burning sensation that had coursed through his body only seconds ago is now non-existent. But he doesn’t question why; he knows the reason, for he can see it in his own dead, empty eyes that stare towards him.

“OKAY, THAT’S A WRAP!” he hears yelled a few feet away. Slowly, he casts his eyes towards seven men he hadn’t noticed before, standing and watching with what looks like cameras, microphones, and other filming equipment.

“H-H-H-Hello?” he says softly.

One of the men looks over to him, nods and smiles, then turns back to packing up his equipment.

“HELLO?” he says again, louder this time.

“Don’t be put off by Klause. He’s one of those artists,” a voice says from behind him. He turns to face a skinny man in his mid-thirties with long, scraggly hair, holding what looks to be a boom microphone. “For him, it’s all about getting the best shots, the right lighting, the angles, all that big money stuff. He’s not about the process, the people, or their experiences anymore. Which is such a shame. He was great once, but now, with all the techno kids coming through who like those big explosions, he’s become distant to it all. But just so you know, I loved your work.”

“W-W-What’s happening? Is this a dream?”

The man laughs. “That’s such a you thing to say,” he says, slapping Simon on the back. “You’re dead, man. Look at you. There’s no coming back from that,” he says, pointing towards the burning car wreckage.

Simon looks back over into his dead eyes once more. “Shit….” he mutters, then finds himself sitting in a white corridor. Doors run along one side, and seats along the other.

“W-W-W-What the fu….” he doesn’t finish his sentence as the door in front of him opens and an elderly gentleman steps out, looking at him.

“Simon, please, if you don’t mind joining me,” he says, gesturing for Simon to enter the room. Nervously, he stands up and enters the room.

“I believe you have a lot of questions,” the man says.

“Y-Yeah, like, what the fuck is going on?”

The man’s face goes red, and he raises a hand towards Simon. “Please, there is no need for cussing, not here, in His place.”

“Y-Y-You’re talking about God? I-I-I, I mean, I get it, I know I’m dead. This, this is heaven, right?”

The man smiles and gestures towards the only seat in the room. “Those answers will come soon enough, but at this present time, we have something for you to watch, something you might find eye-opening. We got the idea from Facebook,” he says with a broad smile. “The kids love it,” he says as he leaves the room.

Simon uneasily shuffles in the chair while the room fades to black. A soft, upbeat music track begins to play as a screen appears before him with the words ‘In A Heartbeat: The Simon Westward Story.’