Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The Inheritance

Clay straddles the chair backwards and takes a long, deep breath. His lips twist, and his eyes roll back in his head before he crosses his arms on the back of the chair, rests his head on his arms, and stares at the petrified Alex, who finds himself bloody, beaten, and tied to a chair opposite Clay.

“Sorry for all this to seem so rushed, but I’ve been thinking about this moment for almost twenty years, and I kinda got carried away,” Clay says with a half-hearted smile that is quickly replaced with a slight grimace. “But I know,” he adds, holding a hand up in protest, “I know that means nothing to you, but I needed to say it regardless. Like I said, years and years.”

“W-W-Who are you?” Alex stammers through bloody lips.

“A fading FUCKING shadow, that’s who I am,” Clay snaps, thrusting himself back and gripping the chair tightly. “A shadow you caused, and one you’re going to fix.”

“I-I-I, I’ve never seen y-y-you before i-in my life, h-h-how can I b-b-be responsible f-for your problems?” he sobs uncontrollably.

Clay scoffs and takes another long-winded breath. “You’re right, but you’re also wrong. You see, maybe you don’t know me in this life, but in the one before this one, you did,” Clay spits, his lips curling and his brow furrowing. “See, you and I sat and talked one day, and you gave me something, something REAL special, and I want that something back again because I FUCKED UP, and it’s YOUR fault. So, you’re gonna give me the box, and I’m gonna wish to set things back right, the way they should be.”

“I-I-I, I don’t know what y-y-you’re talking about. W-W-W-What box?”

“For crying out loud, Alex, the one Daddy Watkins left you, the one he spoke about in the FUCKING letter!”

“D-D-Daddy Watkins?” he stammers softly. “H-H-How do you k-k-know about him?”

Clay rolls his eyes again and lets out another long-winded sigh. “Like I said, we sat, not here, not in this shithole you call a home, but in that nice, pretty one you bought with all your money upstate, and we had a nice long talk. You told me all about the box, how Daddy Watkins asked you to use your wish on him, and how you didn’t. You let the old fucker rot while you bathed yourself in more hookers and blow than any one man could afford. But the box, the box was useless because you used it, so you gave it to me, and I wished to—well, let’s not worry about what I wished, because it was a waste of FUCKING time, and, well, I want another go at it, and this time, this time I’ll do it right.”

“B-B-But didn’t you j-just say the box w-won’t work a second time?”

Clay thrusts himself to his feet and points a threatening finger towards Alex. “I know what I FUCKING said. So, you don’t need to be telling me what I FUCKING said, you just need to be telling me where you hid the FUCKING thing!” Clay bellows.

“I-I, I never had the box, h-h-he, he didn’t, he didn’t leave me anything,” Alex says softly, looking disappointedly to the floor.

Clay’s brow furrows tightly, and his lips curl. “B-B-Bullshit, h-h-he had to leave you t-the box, h-h-he had to, h-h-he, he had it. He, he made his wish, y-y-you made yours, and I-I, I made mine. I-I-It, it all stil…”

“I never made any wish, I mean, look at my life, look at where I live? Do you think I wished for this?”

“DO YOU THINK I WISHED FOR THIS!” Clay spits venomously.

“Well, obviously, you did,” Alex says softly.

Clay stands there, glaring viciously at Alex, before his face softens, “Yeah, yeah, I did,” Clay says as he drops back to the seat and lets out a sigh of exhaustion. “I, I just wanted it to be all different. I just wanted my life to be my own again. But, but I miss them, god damn it, I miss my family.” He says as he looks up into the confused eyes of Alex, with tears streaming down his cheeks.