Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Today’s story is brought to life by the following prompt…

This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday.

Eyes Opened from Closed

The shadows of the room dance around them in the light as if it were given from the flame of a candle, while his eyes burn into his like a pair of hot pokers searing their way through flesh. His lips curl, twitching as they do.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” he spits, clenching his hands into tightly wound fists. “WHAT HAVE YOU MADE ME DO?”

He steps back in shock, aghast in surprise and confusion. “M-M-Me?” he stammers, touching his chest with a trembling hand. “What have I done? W-W-What have I made you do? A-Are you for real?”

“AM I FOR REAL? AM I FOR REAL?” he bellows, throwing his arms around like a madman, spitting a sea of foamed saliva from his lips. “YOU DARE NOT BLAME ME FOR THIS! I AM BUT A PATSY FOR YOUR FOUL MACHINATIONS.”

He lets a cascading sigh tumble free from his chest and tilts his head to the side, letting another exhausted sigh escape. “How can I be the one responsible when you are the one doing all these bad things?”

His lips twist and turn like a turbulent seabed, and his eyes narrow. “I,” he says, digging a pointed finger into his own chest. “I have only done what YOU made me do. I’m no more responsible than the unborn child is for its birth! I am but an afterthought, while you, you are the centre pin of this whole shoddy universe!”

He smiles awkwardly. “Are you trying to say I’m the core and you’re not?”

“I’M NOT TRYING TO SAY ANYTHING,” he spits. “I AM SAYING THAT AS FACT! YOU ARE THE CENTREPIECE, AND WE ARE THE CREATED PIECES OF YOUR SHATTERED MIND, HOLDING EACH OF YOUR SECRETS FROM THE REST OF THE WORLD. FROM YOURSELF EVEN.”

“I-I-I,” he stammers as he stumbles forward, catching himself before he hits the mirror’s glass. “I-I-I,” he stammers again as he looks up into the reflection of his own wild eyes.

“You didn’t know?” he sneers in jest.

“I-I-I,” he stammers once more.

“OH GET OVER IT, FRANKLIN! GET OVER THE BULLSHIT YOU KEEP TELLING YOURSELF AND FACE WHAT YOU HAVE MADE US DO FOR YOU!” he cries, casting a wayward glance behind them. As he does, the shadows draw back, and more of the room’s secrets are laid bare. At first, his eyes close in panic, but the vivid reds that have pooled on the floor around the lifeless bodies of people he once held dear have already burned into his mind’s eye, and he gently opens them once more. They lock eyes as a sea of tears cascades down Franklin’s cheeks.

He smirks proudly. “Do you see it now? Do you see what you have done? What you made us do?”

“H-H-How?” Franklin stammers.

“How? Is it not obvious how?” he says, bringing his crimson-covered hands up for him to see. As he does, the many splashes of red that adorn his own flesh and clothes come to life, and his bottom lip trembles.

“W-W-W-Why?”

“Why?” he scoffs. “Maybe you should be asking, why not?”

Franklin looks up into his own eyes again, “W-W-Why n-n-not?” he asks with a wicked grin upon his lips.