Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

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

This is my submission for the Only Murders In My Mind Weekly Writing Prompt.

Mechanical Ink

“Are you gonna, you know, let me look at it, or are you just gonna tell me about it?” Keith scoffs as he licks the edge of the paper before skilfully rolling a joint between his fingers with the precision that only years of practice could achieve.

“Y-You gotta promise me. Y-Y-You, you gotta SWEAR, you won’t, you know, tell Dad?”

Keith laughs, lighting the joint and taking a long, deep drag. “Depends how bad it is,” he grunts, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible before blowing out a thick cloud. He quickly takes another hit, but it catches in the back of his throat, sending him into a coughing fit, gasping violently as he tries to steady himself.

“Forget it. I knew your stoner arse wouldn’t be able to help,” he spits, leaping to his feet, only for Keith to grab his arm and pull him back down.

“For fuck’s sake, okay, okay, I PROMISE I won’t tell Dad, alright? Now, will you fucking show me what’s got you all wound the fuck up, or are you going to drag it out like some schoolgirl drama queen?” Keith says, taking one final toke of his joint before stubbing it out on a heavily scarred table to his left, then tossing the butt into a bin.

He takes a deep breath, tightly closes his eyes, and gently exhales. “I went and saw Ryder-Thirty-Eight,” he says slowly, a nervous smile twitching across his lips.

“HOLY SHIT, BOY!” Keith cries with an evil laugh, slapping his hands gleefully together. “You got a motherfucking TATTOO, even when Dad told you NOT to? Man, when he finds out, you are gonna be so FUCKING dead!”

He grabs Keith by the arm and squeezes it tightly. “He’s not going to find out!” he hisses.

Keith looks down at his arm, then back up at Luke, his face painted with a sea of emotions, all the wrong ones slowly boiling to the surface. “You better get your MOTHERFUCKING hands off me RIGHT NOW!” he seethes through clenched teeth. “You don’t, and you’re gonna have a bigger problem than Dad telling you off for getting some stupid tattoo!”

Luke gently lets go of his brother’s arm. “I-I-I, I’m sorry, I-I-I just can’t have Dad finding out, n-not until I’m ready,” he stammers, stumbling over his words.

“Well, hotshot, if you’re gonna be walking around like the Phantom of the Opera, he’s gonna know something’s up. So, why don’t you just cut the shit and show me what the fuck is going on underneath that scarf?” Keith says as he reaches out, only for Luke to catch his hand and hold it tremblingly at bay.

“Y-You, you’ve got to understand, i-it’s not finished. W-We’ve still got a-a whole lot more to do, a-a-and some of the detail l-looks rough, b-b-but once it’s finished, y-y-you won’t even be able to tell it’s a tattoo. H-He used this new ink he brought from s-some guy w-who got it from another g-guy in the Mediterranean Sea; it has these a-amazing properties, a-and it’s n-never supposed to age like the tattoos of old. I-I-It’s revolutionary,” he mumbles nervously, a sea of sweat running down his brow.

Keith laughs loudly, slapping his hands together wildly once more. “SOME GUY FROM THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA! What the FUCK are you talking about? Man, that MOTHERFUCKER has played you for a fool! NOW, STOP FUCKING STALLING AND SHOW ME THE GODDAMN HORROR SHOW!” he cheers loudly.

Luke takes a deep breath and slowly unwinds the scarf from his face, revealing little to nothing at first. But then, as the scarf unravels from his throat, the intricate machinery that has been cut into his flesh begins to emerge.

Keith blinks erratically, his eyes widening in surprise. “W-W-What the fuck?” he mumbles as the gears slowly begin to move.