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.

The Lock That Didn’t

Harry slams the gate shut behind them, pulls the heavy chain from his knapsack, and frantically winds it around the gate and fence. With a strained grunt, he thrusts a boot against the gate, pulls the chain taut, and looks over to Gwen with a panicked glance.
“N-N-NOW!” he cries through gritted teeth. “T-T-THE L-LOCK! D-DO IT N-NOW!”
Quickly, Gwen fumbles through his knapsack while Harry grimaces under the strain. She gasps as her fingers touch the cold metal lock, pulls it triumphantly from the bag, and holds it in the night air, a satisfied grin on her lips.
“N-N-NOW, G-GWEN! NOW!” he screams, as the air grows cold around them. She leaps up, and with trembling fingers, threads the lock through the chain’s links, finally clipping it back into itself, and they both fall back, aghast.
A lick of lightning pierces the night sky, followed moments later by a crack of thunder that bellows from up high. A sea of fog surges toward them, but the blessed iron gate burns the demonic waste, causing it to dissipate, leaving only screams, cries, and death in its wake.
Harry’s chest heaves as he gasps desperately for breath. A sea of sweat cascades down, stinging as the salt washes over his many wounds. He spits and doubles over, grabbing at his side. Gwen takes a step back, horrified.
Her eyes widen, and her brow furrows in distress. “H-H-Harry?” she stammers as she slowly reaches out.
He arches upwards and screams like a wild animal. “DON’T!” he cries. “LEAVE ME ALONE!”
“H-H-H,” she stammers as she clutches the axe tightly against herself, while Harry tears his shirt from his body, revealing pulsating globules growing from the many gouges that litter his tiny frame. He looks up at Gwen with a pleading cry.
“G-G-Gwen, p-p-please,” he stammers as he reaches for her, but Gwen stumbles back in fear.
“N-N-NO, Y-Y-YOU’RE i-i-i-infected like L-L-Luke was. Y-Y-You’re not you anymore,” she cries as she shakes her head and presses herself up against the iron fence.
“P-P-Please,” he sobs, as he strains his reach towards her.
“N-N-NO, y-y-you’re i-infected! Y-Y-YOU’RE INFECTED!” she cries again, as she turns her head and closes her eyes.
“G-GWEN! LOOK AT ME!” he screams, his temper now taking centre stage, while the globules grow and pulsate with a frantic fury all their own.
She sucks in a breath and turns back to him, her lips curling as the sky lights up. “I-I, I SAID NO!” she roars as she drives the axe down upon his skull while a crack of thunder tears through the heavens above. He sits there on his knees for several moments before a smile gently drips across his lips, and then, the pulsating balls of pus begin to explode like flowers in the spring winds.
Gwen cries out in surprise, turning too late as she catches the flying matter in her face. She turns away, vomiting violently, coughing, screaming, and crying. Collapsing into a ball on the ground, she watches as Harry’s now silent form drops to her side. Staring weepingly into his dead eyes, she feels the seeds starting to take root within her flesh.