Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The Roundhead Is Coming

He takes a step back, looks over the images before him, and smiles nervously. His creations speak to him with piercing clarity, pulsating through his veins like the very blood that carries oxygen around his withering body. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls, letting out a short, sharp grunt of frustration. After one hundred days, today, for the first time since he started this journey, he feels lost.

A sudden knock at the door startles him, and he grits his teeth, grinding them as if he were cutting a saw through wood. A sharp pain shoots up the side of his face and into his temple; his right eye twitches rapidly as he feels his jaw lock. Then he turns quickly around and storms towards the door as the knocking continues. Pulling it open, he is greeted by an empty hallway. For a few seconds, he stands there, confused, lost, until finally he steps out from his apartment but spies nothing out of the ordinary—just an empty, vacant hallway. Slowly, he steps back in and closes the door behind him, shaking his head in confusion as he makes his way back towards his workspace before the knocking begins again.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” he screams as he charges at the door and pulls it open once more, revealing the same empty hallway. “You’re not FUCKING funny!” he yells as he slams the door. This time, he does not walk away but stands there, peering through the spy hole, waiting. Sweat pours quickly from his forehead as he presses his face against the door. A spark of white explodes in the hallway, and the banging begins again. His eyes widen as he sucks in a breath, watching the glowing white bubble hover in front of the door. It buzzes around like a bee searching a garden bed for the best succulent flower to pollinate. His bottom lip trembles as he pulls himself away from the door and rips it open. He stands there as the white bubble hovers in front of him and then shoots into his apartment. He spins around and watches as it buzzes around his working desk, then turns back towards him and takes the shape of a young girl. She stands there, staring at him, and the room ignites as an explosion rips through his work, sending him crashing to the floor.

He quickly opens his eyes and slowly lifts himself onto his elbows, looking towards his workspace. The smoking remains of his desk rise in wisps into the air, and he feels a burning red-hot rage in his belly. Quickly, he scrambles to his feet, screaming at the top of his lungs. His heart beats furiously in his chest as he staggers over to the remains of the desk, tears running down his face.

“Today, you begin a new challenge,” a voice says from behind him. He spins around to face the ghostly girl’s image.

“W-W-What the fuck are you?”

“I am its herald, its omen. I am the word before it comes. You have been chosen. You are its seer, and you will foretell its coming. You will make its name known, you will hear its words, and you will spread them. You will prepare the world.”

“W-W-What? I’m not doing anything for anyone, especially not someone who….” His words freeze in his throat as he feels the room drop in temperature. The lights flicker, the TV switches on and off, as the little girl smiles.

“It’s coming…” she says softly, as he feels the floor beneath him tremble.