Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Tired of Your Nuances

The axe slices through the piece of wood, sending two even pieces tumbling to the ground. He rubs his hands together before tightly hugging himself. She laughs as she places another piece on the tree stump, now a chopping block.

“Cold?” she asks.

“Don’t avoid the question. It’s like this: first, you say you want to be a partner, and now you say you don’t. Which is it? Because Watson wants this sorted by the end of the day, and once you make a choice, it’s permanent.”

“I told you no. I told you that when you called me last week. I told you that when you emailed me two days ago. And I’ll tell you one more time: I’m not interested. Watson can go to hell for all I care, and you can too. I’m done with all that shit. I just want to be left alone out here and, hopefully, get some sleep,” she says as she swings the axe, sending it powerfully through the piece of wood.

“You know he’s not going to be satisfied with that answer. Why don’t you come back home, back to the city, and we can talk this out. We—I—I don’t want to lose you.”

She laughs. “Peter, you’re so sweet, but I’m not coming back. I’m not taking the position. And we… we never had anything between us. That night, that one moment of weakness,” she says as she places another piece of wood on its end and raises the axe, staring him dead in the eyes. “That night was a mistake!” She swings the axe swiftly through the air and strikes the piece of wood, splitting it in half.

“Don’t be like that,” he says as he steps toward her. She sets another piece of wood up, and as she raises the axe, he places a photo on the piece of wood. Her eyes widen, and she looks at him. He stands there with a smug smile on his face. “I think you need to reassess your answer.”

She swings the axe, diverting her aim at the last moment, and it strikes him in the stomach. He screams in pain and falls to his knees, staring up at her as she raises the axe above her head.

“Where is he?”

“P-P-PLEASE!”

“Where is he? I won’t ask again.”

“Please, Kathryn, don’t do it. We have so much—”

“Oh, Peter, I’m tired. So please, shut the fucking hell up!” she yells as she brings the axe down upon his head. The blade tears its way into his skull, and he drops instantly to the ground in a quivering, bloody heap. She places a boot on his shoulder for leverage and tries to pull the axe free. The coldness of steel against her throat instantly makes her stop in her tracks. She feels his warm breath on the back of her neck.

“Hello, Kathryn. Nice to see you haven’t lost your touch.”

“Hello, Watson. I’ve been waiting for you,” she says with a smile.