Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Dance Off

As the song comes to an end, the crowd stops dancing and turns towards the stage, clapping vigorously for the band, Mars Rox and The Turtle Men. The dimly lit venue pulses with energy, the audience’s excitement palpable.

“You’re all too kind!” Mars Rox says, letting loose one of his trademark knee-wobbling smiles and a wink of the eye. “We’re going to take a small break and will be back in ten minutes or less, and then, my wayward hip-rockin’ friends, it’s dance-off time!” The crowd cheers with delight, as wolf whistles and screams of ‘Rox’ fill the room until generic music blares out through the speakers. Mars and his band shuffle off the stage through a side door to the back area.

As the band exits the stage, Mars heads down a dimly lit hallway, the echoes of applause still ringing in his ears. A voice calls out to him from the shadows. “Mister Rox, do you have a moment to spare for an old friend?”

Mars turns and smiles softly as he spies the owner of the voice, a woman in her late sixties. “Millie, my oh my, look at you, haven’t you grown?”

“I’m touched you remembered me, it’s been a long time,” she says with a smile. He quickly picks her up and hugs her tightly.

“It feels like days for me,” he says as he kisses her passionately on the lips. “You must tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself since we last stood here.”

“Getting old is all I’ve been doing, Mars. While you, you keep looking as handsome and young as ever,” she says with a laugh. He smiles.

“You look as beautiful as you always have, my sweet beautiful Millie,” he says as he runs a hand across her cheek and through her hair. “Are you staying for the second half? We’ve really got them in the palm of our hands tonight; it’s the best show we’ve played all year,” he says with a laugh.

“I wish I could. Maybe next show I’ll stay.”

His brow furrows, but then he smiles, “At least stay for the next song. Surely you’ve got time?”

“You ask me every year, and I always tell you the same answer.”

He pulls her close, gripping her by the buttocks and running his hand through her hair again, “And each year I’ll ask you the same question until you stay,” he says as he kisses her.

“I miss you,” she says as she runs a hand over his cheek and cuddles up closely.

He continues to stroke her hair, “I’m always with you, my love, and one day, one day soon, we’ll be together for the rest of time,” he says as they separate and stand facing each other, holding hands, and looking deeply into each other’s eyes. “Until then, we’ll always have next year to look forward to,” he says as he hands her a single red rose.

“Next year,” she says softly as she stands there in the dark rundown old hall, looks down at the rose in her hand, and smiles as a tear runs down her face. “We’ll always have next year.”