Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Past Tense

She stood in front of the sink, gently running the sponge over a cup, then placed it in the rack on the other side. Without purpose, she looked up and out the window, peering across the street and gently smiling to herself as she felt the warmth of the sun on her face. She looked back down, continuing to slowly clean the remaining cutlery and plates, gently placing each one on the rack beside the sink. Once more, she looked up and out the window, into the street beyond her home, across the road, and into the park, directly into his eyes. She felt her heart skip a beat, then increase in speed, as she stared into this man’s soulless, empty eyes. She dropped the plate back into the sink and stumbled backwards, her focus blurred, and she felt her legs begin to give way as she clutched her chest. Desperately, she looked back towards the park, but he was gone. With nervous trepidation, she took a step forward and peered out through the window, her heart starting to fall back into a normal rhythm.

After some minutes, she picked up the plate again, only to come face to face with the man, who was now standing on the other side of the window. His empty expression sent a chill down her back. In a panic, she let out a hollow scream and rushed to the telephone that hung on the wall next to the door of the kitchen. But her endeavour was halted by another man who stood in the doorway holding a large hunting knife in his hand, his bottom lip curling up, twisting with anger.

“Quit your screaming, bitch, or I’ll cut you!” he yelled as he stormed into the room and grabbed her by the hair, slamming her face-first down onto the table. “Now, this is going to be nice and easy. You don’t have to get cut, and I don’t have to be doing shit I don’t want to do. Do you understand?” he said.

“T-T-T-Take what you want, PLEASE! I have nothing of any value, but whatever you want, take it. IT’S YOURS!” she screamed.

“I was hoping you were going to say that,” he said, leaning on top of her, pressing his lips against her ear. “You might not remember me, Miss Parker, but I remember you. All through high school, you taught me English, never gave me the time of day though, always looking after the rich kids, not paying attention to the kids who really needed your help.”

“B-B-Bobby F-Fox?” she said nervously.

“I ain’t Bobby ‘FUCKING’ Fox, woman! I’m Jerry Lewis, JERRY FUCKING LEWIS! FUCK, I ain’t Bobby Fox! SHIT! SEE! I told you! You never paid attention to me, can’t even remember my fucking name, but Miss, I sure remember you,” he said as he grabbed her by the buttocks and thrust his groin against her, licking her earlobe. “You were one of my first bank wanks, maybe the best I ever had, and last week I got out of San Reamus after doing twenty years for shit you don’t even want to know about. Shit I need to atone for. See, Miss, I found God, and he told me to repent for all the mistakes I’d made in my life, right all those wrongs, and when I saw you yesterday, going about your perfect life, I knew I needed to start with you,” he said as he ripped her dress up and pulled down her pants. “You see, Miss Parker, I should’ve fucked you a long time ago instead of….” His words suddenly came to an abrupt end, and she could hear him choking, struggling for breath. Slowly, she turned away, clasping a hand over her mouth in shock, as standing there, with his ghostly hands around Jerry’s throat, was her long-dead husband, Roy. Eight years ago, Roy was diagnosed with a brain tumour, and it was only a short six months later that he passed away after a valiant fight that involved numerous operations, chemo, and whatever else science could throw at it. In the days leading up to his death, Roy told her every day that he would always watch over her, and she knew when she saw him in the park that day, something was going to happen. As she fell to the floor, she wiped the tears from her eyes as Jerry’s lifeless body fell to the floor. She looked up to her husband, and he smiled as he disappeared.