Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

A Conversation Best Left For the Fire Pit

Conner presses his hands against his head and lets out a silent scream inside his muddled mind, crescendoed by a shrill of ecstasy as he tears his eyes open and finds the landscape reset once again. He is back at the forest’s centre. Sweat, tears, and blood stream down his face. His heart skips several beats, then rushes forward, trying to catch up before stopping once more. He squeezes his eyes shut, then opens them a handful of seconds later, and starts screaming like a madman possessed by the devil himself.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!” he screams, pounding his head with clenched fists from both sides. His teeth are gritted tightly, spitting a sea of saliva as he growls, baring them like a wild animal. “I-I-I, I C-C-CAN’T…” he mumbles through wild eyes. “W-W-WHY C-C-CAN’T I-I-I…” He stumbles through the undergrowth like a lost sheep trying to find its pack.

Seconds turn into minutes, and then those minutes stretch into hours as he stumbles helplessly forward. He looks up at the sky, blinking haphazardly, cowering from the unyielding rays of the sun with a hiss and a spit that would make a vampire jealous.

He stops, turns his head to the left, then the right, and stands up straight, correcting his posture. A broad smile spreads across his face. “You can’t, because you’ve only got yourself to blame,” he says. Then he hunches over again, dropping to his knees.

“W-W-Why is it m-m-my fault? W-W-W-Why can’t i-i-it be your f-f-fault?” he stammers, staring emptily at his torn, tired hands. “W-W-Why can’t y-y-you take t-t-the blame f-f-for once?”

He stands up proudly again, a sneer carved across his lips. “Because we— and you know when I say ‘we’, I mean me and you,” he says, thrusting his thumb from his chest to his chest. “WE! We are the same MOTHER-FUCKER, and blaming one is just like blaming the other. Yet taking responsibility? That needs to be done by just YOU! NOT ME!”

He drops to his knees as fresh tears stream down his face. “I-I-I, I never b—”

He leaps to his feet, scoffing. “You never what? You never blamed me?”

“STOP!” he screams, collapsing to the ground. He folds himself in half and cries at the sky, his face twisting. “STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH!”

“All the words are only coming from YOUR mouth, because it’s the only mouth WE have,” he spits sarcastically, standing over his own twisted shadow.

“W-W-What if I-I-I,” he stammers, falling to the ground, cowering from the silhouette that still stands proudly above him. “W-What if I give you c-control. C-Can you get us out of here?”

He smiles broadly, shaking his head in despair. “You know that’s not gonna happen. And we definitely can’t go anywhere without him.”

“H-H-Him?” he asks nervously.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“I-I-I, I don’t w-w-want to. I-I-I, I don’t w-w-want to go back to the s-start.”

He stands up tall, though not as proudly as before, and sucks in a stuttered breath. “You’ve got to sometime, kid, and we both know when you do, you’ll go all the way back to where he’s dying.”

“C-C-Can’t we call f-for help? C-C-Can’t we save him?”

He smiles broadly. “We could, if we could get out of this forest. And if we were real.”

“W-W-We’re n-n-not real?” he stammers, beginning to cry once again.