Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The September morning breeze wafted through, carrying wisdom. It was a meeting place, and I was given wings to fly—not my own. A fairy, not fairly, we soared through the sky. Soared, yet soured by a sickness, disguised to my eyes. Lower we went, given over to the hardened fat in my veins. My stomach wretched, the guilt detached. Over and under, twice around, nothing found. Not up, not down…