Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

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

This is my submission for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday.

Calm and the Storm Said the Same

Steve digs his hands deep into his jacket pockets and rolls a curl of his lip along its length, licking at it with his tongue, before letting out a deep sigh.

“What’s got you so nervous?” a woman asks as she stands proudly like a fifties movie star beside the bright red speedster that’s parked outside the diner.

“N-Nothing,” he replies with a quivering smile.

“Does it have anything to do with a boy or a girl?” she asks with a playful smile.

He rolls his eyes and sighs loudly again as he shakes his head. “Neither.”

“Oh, both?”

“NEITHER! I MEAN NONE! NADA! NOTHING!” he spits through clenched teeth.

She holds her hands in the air. “Calm down there, chicken chops, no need to get on everyone’s bad side!”

“How about you mind your own business, Prue, and go do whatever it is you do when you’re not standing there!”

She tosses her head back, crosses her arms, and leans back against the car. “We both know that’d be a waste of brain power, and it’s easier for everyone if I stay here to make sure he doesn’t go in there,” she says, nodding towards the storm that’s slowly tearing its way through everything towards them and the diner.

“I-I-I,” he stammers as he looks back at the diner and swallows as a sea of sweat cascades down his brow.

“W-W-W-What’s happening, Steve? W-Why are we here, and what aren’t you telling me? But most of all, above everything else,” she spits, pointing at the thing tearing towards them from the ever-growing darkness, “what the fuck is he doing here!”

“I-I-I,” he stammers nervously as he looks over to her, tears running down his cheeks.

Her eyes grow wide, and she leaps forward, grabbing Steve’s arm and turning him to her. “STEVE, WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?”

“H-H-He’s in there,” Steve replies.

“W-W-Who’s he, Steve?”

“H-H-Him,” he says as he looks back to the diner.

“Oh, h-h-him,” she says softly, as she clutches herself and takes a step back. “W-What are you going to d-d-do?”

“I-I-I, I’m not going to do a-anything,” he says as he turns back to her. “But he is,” he adds as the tornado of destruction bears down on them.

“Y-Y-You can’t let him in there! And you can’t let him loose! H-H-He’ll make everything ten times worse, and he’ll still be walking around claiming he’s the victim.”

Steve lets a heavy breath escape his lips. “W-What am I supposed to do, Prue? I-I-I, I can’t forget it happened! I can’t forget he never existed!”

“I know, none of us can, and none of us will, b-b-but, sending that thing in there with him is asking for more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s too late,” he says as the world around them is engulfed by the tornado, and then he stands before them, chest heaving and eyes wild.

“T-T-THIS IS ALL WRONG, H-H-HE CAN’T GO IN THERE!” she cries desperately.

“I-I-I—,” he stammers as he stands alone once more, staring at the diner door. Then suddenly, his posture changes as if something, or someone, steps into his skin, wearing it like a suit. He stands upright and smiles broadly. With confident strides, he pushes his way through the diner door. The room falls silent, and all eyes quickly fall on him. His smile broadens, and he looks around the room, eventually locking eyes with his father. His smile widens into a grin that begins to tear the corners of his mouth, and he opens his jacket to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest. “Happy Father’s Day!” he announces proudly as the explosion tears through the diner.