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.

A Sweet Half Glass Full

He stares down at the glass, feeling as if he’s been studying it for a lifetime. Every small ripple and wave cascades through the caramel liquid. He sniffs, drawing back a breath, purses his lips, and gently closes his eyes.

“You think anyone is really going to care what you do next?” a voice asks.

He opens his eyes, looking up across the table and into Claudette’s fiery green eyes. A smirk trembles across her lips as she gives him a playful wink.

“Miss me?” she purrs.

“Not really,” he states matter-of-factly.

She giggles softly. “Always the brute, but never the beauty, aren’t we?” she scoffs sarcastically. “Are you gonna drink it, or marry it?”

“What do you want, Claudette?” he grunts.

“Why do I have to want something? Can’t I just visit?”

“You never just visit, Claudette. In fact, you never visit at all. So again I ask, what do you want?” he grunts, looking back down at the glass.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. What’s up your arse?”

“Would it even matter if I told you?”

“You could try and find out,” she purrs. “Maybe we could scratch each other’s backs.”

“We’ve done that dance before. We don’t need a repeat performance. Now, why don’t you ask your favor, so I can say no, and we can get this all over and done with, and I can get back to something more important.”

“Well, now I feel like a third wheel. What’s so important about a glass of whiskey?”

“It’s not just a glass of whiskey. It’s the glass of whiskey. The only glass.”

Her brow furrows, and her lips purse. “The glass? Big words, but still, what does it matter?”

“That’s the thing,” he says with a nervous smile as he looks up at her. “It doesn’t, but for some reason, it does.”

“Sounds like fun,” she playfully says as she grabs the glass. “Let’s try it!”

“NO!” he bellows as he grabs the glass from her hand and thrusts her away. “It’s NOT FOR YOU!” he cries, carefully placing the glass back down next to the bottle and settling himself in his seat once again. “I-I-It’s not for you,” he mutters softly to himself, as he runs a trembling hand through his hair.

“OW!” she exclaims as she awkwardly gets to her feet and stumbles back to the chair opposite. “You could’ve hurt me!” she snaps, as she runs her hands down her dress, flattening out the creases.

He looks up and stares into her eyes. His stomach churns, and he quickly looks back to the bottle. “W-W-What do you want, Claudette?”

“Like I told you before, I’m here to visit.”

“Why? Why now? W-W-Why not before? WHY NOT THEN!”

“I’ve tried, many, many times, but you’ve never let me in. You’ve never entertained the thought. But now, because of what’s in the glass—and we both know I’m not talking about the whiskey—you’ve finally let me in.”

His eyes widen, and a fresh sea of sweat breaks across his brow. “I-I-I, I wanted to visit y-you. I-I-I, I wanted to s-s-say g-g-g-goodbye…” he stammers as tears cascade down his cheeks, and he begins sobbing uncontrollably.

“I know, even though I needed you, I knew you were in no shape to be the man I needed. But it meant I died alone, without you, without anyone.”

“I-I-I, I’m s-s-so sorry,” he stammers, as he looks up at her again. She sits across from him in her hospital gown, a frail version of who she was a few moments ago—her eyes sunken, her skin pale, and her head void of hair. She smiles softly.

“I know you are, but then again, I also know you’re not really sorry, not for me, and that’s why I’m here—to watch, and to make sure.”

“M-Make sure of w-w-what?”

“TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T BACK OUT!” she snarls, as she leaps forward and pries his mouth open, pouring the glass down his throat.