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.

Lost in the Spin of the Spiral

They spin, for what seems like an eternity, hand in hand, in circles both large and small. Steps crossing over steps, graceful yet lost in the myriad lusts of today and tomorrow. Their eyes are closed—not tightly, but relaxed and gentle—comfortable in each other’s grasp as they spin endlessly from one second to the next.

He watches from afar, his fingers lodged in his mouth as he chews on his dirty nails. A bead of sweat races down his brow. He blinks and lets out a nervous stutter. His lip curls as a sharp tremor pulses up the side of his face. He lets out a sharp hiss as his teeth puncture flesh, and a stream of blood trickles from his lips. His nose turns up as he tears the hanging flesh from his finger and spits it to the floor. He casts a scowl down at his half-closed hand and picks at the gash with his thumb. He lets out another hiss as he digs his thumbnail into the wound and flicks it like a coin.

He takes another deep breath and looks back up at the two of them as they continue to spin—unaware of the world around them, and the fate that awaits them once they stop. He allows himself to smile—if only for a moment—then casts a wicked glance across the table towards his mother. She stares at him with terror-filled eyes, and his smile broadens.

“What is it, Mother? Are you not happy to see your son finally wed to his sweetheart?”

She spits at him, screwing up her nose in defiance. “You are no child of mine!” she snarls.

He laughs, then turns back to watch the couple continue their dance. “Unfortunately for us all, you are wrong, hag!”

The pair stumble and crash to the ground in a clumsy heap. She cries out, and he desperately scrambles to his feet, looking over at his brother as he slowly stands to attention, a wicked smile on his lips.

“M-Marc, I-I-I, I can’t,” she cries as she looks up at him, her eyes red, tears streaming down her face. She clutches her already swollen ankle. His eyes widen, and his lips curl. He turns back to his brother, who strides towards them.

“Henry, please! She is hurt! I beg you!” Marc protests, but Henry drives the blade of his knife deep into his stomach. Marc gasps, letting out a groan, and gasps again. They stare into each other’s eyes, and Henry grins.

“Begging is unbecoming of you, brother. I expected more—some fight maybe—but in the end, like when we were children, you are a gutless fool!” Henry says as he drags the knife across Marc’s stomach, and his intestines drop to the floor in a cascading heap.

Marc looks down at his new wife as she cries hysterically, reaching out to him. “I-I-I-I, I love y-y-you, Joy,” he stammers, before he drops to the floor, dead.

His mother screams from the table beyond, and Henry grins like a madman as he licks the blade of the knife. He looks down at Joy, pointing the knife at her.

“Get up! Get up and finish the dance—or I’ll gut you too!” he snarls.

“F-F-FUCK YOU!” Joy screams.

Henry sniggers, then smiles. “I’d never covet my brother’s wife—but I’ll kill the bitch if she doesn’t do what I say,” he spits, his lips curling. “Now, pick my lazy fucking brother up and finish the goddamn dance!”