Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Only Me

“Through the darkness, I have fought; through the cold, I have battled, until only I stand here before you, ready to finish this war,” he says, his heart pounding in his chest. He grips the hilt of his sword tightly and readies himself as the gigantic beast charges towards him. He drives his shield into the beast and swings his sword valiantly. The beast whips its tail at him. He lunges forward, using the shield as protection, and plunges the sword deep into the beast’s side. It screams in pain, in agony. It knocks him to the ground, then retreats a few yards away, dropping to the ground with a low growl. He scrambles to his feet, gripping his sword once more, and tosses his dented, now useless shield aside.

“I will defeat you, beast. It is my birthright; it is my destiny. I have battled my whole life for this moment. I have killed many men, women, and beasts to stand here before you. So come at me again, you vile thing, for I will take your head back to the village when I remove it, and I will be a hero.”

“You have battled only to die!” the beast screams, its voice like the sound of smashing glass. It leaps forward with another low growl, rushing towards him again, only to stop a few feet away and smile. “Tell me your deepest fears. Tell me what makes you cry. Confess all these things, and I will take them from you. I will free you from their burdens, and I will let you live. All you need do is look into my mirror, for it will grant all you desire. It will free you from your weakness and make you a true hero.”

“Don’t try to tempt me, beast. Your mirror is as wicked as you are. What fate would befall me if I were to look into its depths? What foul quest would I have to accomplish to rid myself of the demons that inhabit it? No, beast—I choose none. I choose your head on a pike!” he says, glancing at the mirror. From the corner of his eye, a twist of light flickers to life and then disappears, as his eyes widen in fright.

“I can smell the fear on you. I can smell urine seeping from you. Are you scared, Roman? Are you now waiting for what will be your undoing?”

“I am not scared to die. I am not scared of you. I have defeated all that you’ve put in my way. I have slain every vile creature you summoned to protect you. I am not the one who is scared—it is you, the one who hides behind the mirror. The one who waits to pick off the scraps after others have done your dirty work. No, beast, I am not scared. I am ready to rid this—” He feels the blade tear into his chest, feels it pierce his heart, and then nothing.

As the darkness takes him, his body collapses to the ground with a lifeless thud. Standing over him is the mirror image of himself—unburdened by life’s fears.