Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

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

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS August 17, 2024 

Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “shirt.’” Use it any way you’d like. Have fun!

A Shirt of a Deal

“You think?” Rosco asks with a wry smile as he stares at his reflection in the mirror.

“Oh yeah, the green really complements your complexion, and the cut hugs your curves in all the right ways,” Carmen purrs, nodding her head and taking an impressed step back, eyeing Rosco as if he were a slab of meat she was about to devour.

He blushes and turns, looking over his shoulder, checking himself out. “What shade of green is it, exactly? Emerald?”

“This one’s called forest green,” she says, gently running her fingers along the line of colour that runs down the shirt in a gingham style. “And this one is sage,” she adds, running her finger along another stripe. “And this,” she says, poking the third colour. “This is just your everyday white.”

He lets a shiver run down his spine as he forces an uncomfortable smile. “H-H-How much did you s-s-say it was?”

She grins broadly, clapping her hands together in excitement. “Three hundred and seventy-four dollars, which is a bargain because it’s on SALE!”

His eyes widen, and his jaw drops. “M-M-My God! H-H-How much is it normally?”

“Seven hundred and ninety-nine!” she says proudly.

He stares at the ground, shakes his head in disbelief, muttering to himself, before looking back up at her with a desperate glance. “I-I-I, I can’t afford that sort of money f-for a shirt,” he stammers, looking at his reflection again. “N-No matter how good I look in it.”

Her smile disappears, and she frowns dramatically, then grins broadly once again. “Don’t worry, I can work out a special one-time price, just for you,” she says as she playfully strides over to the register and pulls a black leather-bound book from beneath it.

“W-W-What’s that?” he stammers nervously.

“This,” she says with a smile as she opens the book. “This is THE ledger.”

“T-T-The ledger? W-W-What’s i-i-it for?”

She giggles mischievously. “It’s for keeping records, silly.”

“I-I-I, I know what a ledger’s f-for, I just, I just don’t know what I can give you that would make any of this worthwhile.”

“You’d be surprised how something so simple and insignificant can buy you many wonderful things,” she boasts confidently, peeling the pages of the book open, running a pointed finger down each page, until finally, she lets out a squeal of excitement and looks back up at Rosco. “You, sir, are in luck. I have a deal for you that will not only allow you to take the shirt for no monetary charge, but also opens us up to a relationship of mutual satisfaction.”

“I-I-I, I’m flattered, r-r-really, but I’m not going to have sex with you, j-j-just to get this shirt. I-I-I,” he stammers, looking over his dazzling reflection once again. “I-I, I mean, I do look pretty fucking hot in this thing.”

She smiles, places a hand over her lips, and allows a muffled laugh to escape. “Please, Rosco, do not confuse my words for flirtation, for I have no intention of sleeping with you.”

“T-Then what do you want?”

She strides provocatively up to him, running a hand over his chest, her eyes devouring him like he was a feast. “I want you to go out and let that shirt work its magic on every woman you meet. I want you to seduce them, plant your seed in their wombs, and then move on to the next, and the next, and the next. Each time, I will shower you with something new, something that will make you seem far hotter than you actually are. That is what I ask of you, that, and nothing more.”

His face screws up, and his brows furrow. “Let me get this right, you want me to go out and get women pregnant?”

“You make it seem so wrong when you say it like that,” she playfully mocks.

“That’s because it is. I’m not going to go out and get women pregnant just to get new clothes, no matter how good they make me look,” he says as he stares at his reflection once more. She grips his arm and grins.

“Your words say one thing, but your reflection says something completely different,” she purrs as they both stare lustfully at his reflection.

“I-I-I, I do look hot.”

“And you could look even hotter with a new pair of jeans that grab you in all the right places at all the right times.”

“A-A-All the right places?”

“At all the right times,” she purrs.

“W-W-What’s s-stopping me from agreeing now, keeping the shirt and changing my mind once I leave?”

She grips his arm far tighter than before, and he winces in pain. “Those,” she hisses as the room falls dark, and a red glow erupts from below. Rosco catches his breath as he stares wide-eyed at the sea of souls that scream from below, calling out for forgiveness. “Anyone can play, Rosco, anyone at all, but no one wins in my games, no one but ME!” she hisses, and then in the blink of an eye, they are standing in the store again, and Rosco is holding a bag in one hand and a pen in the other, his signature scribbled across the bottom of the ledger’s page.