Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The King and the Larriout 

The breeze cut through him like a knife, sharp and straight to the core. A shiver rides up his spine and smacks him in the back of his skull, like a punch. He grimaces, curling his lip in defiance. Without a second thought, he turns on his heel and faces Cortez, who smiles broadly. 

“You growing some balls now, hombre?” 

“If you break your word, I swear—” 

“My word is my bond. There are many things in this world worth nothing, but the word of a man, when given, must stand for everything!” 

“I don’t want a damn speech, just a yes or no!” 

Cortez laughs, loudly. “I like you! You’re a straight shooter, and faced with the misfortunes that surround you, a normal man would lie through his teeth. I mean,” he cackles, “I’ve seen it! I’ve seen great men, big men, strong men, nasty men. I’ve seen them all, and I’ve seen the lies they tell. But you, hombre—you’re the kind of man I could grow to like!” 

“I’m gonna put it out there now, just to be clear—I’m not sleeping with you. Sweetheart, you’re not my type.” 

Cortez’s lip curls, and his brow furrows. “Don’t mistake my small talk for anything but small talk, puta!” he spits. 

“And don’t mistake my desperation to live as an invitation for sex,” he quips back. 

They stand locked in silence for a few tense moments. Then Cortez laughs hysterically, slapping his knees and clutching his side. “You might just make it out of here in one piece,” Cortez cackles as he waves a hand, and a large wooden door rolls back. He steadies himself, peering into the black void. It doesn’t take long for his waiting to be answered, as a bull-like beast charges out of the darkness toward him, screaming—its body adorned with scars and trinkets from those who faced it before. He swallows a jagged mouthful of air and clenches his teeth tightly together. 

He leaps to the side, narrowly avoiding its first attack, but before he can scramble to his feet, the beast is coming at him again. Its mouth is a frothy mess, its eyes bloodshot and wild. It gores him in the side with its horns, and a sea of red splashes onto the dirt as he stumbles, clutching his wound. The beast quickly turns again and charges. He ducks and slides beneath it, grabbing a fistful of its massive, swinging balls. He pulls hard, bringing the behemoth to a sudden halt. He swings up, straddling the beast’s back. He grabs one of the many blades still lodged in its flesh and drives it into the beast’s skull, piercing the centre of its brain. It crashes to the ground, skidding to an eventual bloody stop. 

He tumbles from the beast’s back, staggering to his feet as the crowd watches in stunned silence. Cortez lets out a booming laugh and claps a heavy hand on one of his henchmen’s shoulders. 

“Didn’t I tell you? He’s a wild one, this one—a REAL fighter.” He growls with savage delight, saliva dripping from his lips as he gestures for the carcass to be dragged away. 

He steps out onto the podium. “Tonight, we eat the kill!” Cortez boasts loudly, and the crowd erupts into a thunderous roar. He looks down at him and smiles. “And you, stranger, what will we call you? A name, something the people can cheer as you slay your next beast?” 

“You can call me King!” he quips back quickly. 

Cortez smiles smugly, his gaze drifting over the roaring crowd before finally settling back on him. “Yes—very well then. Let that be your name,” he says, his voice laced with layers of sarcasm. He raises his arms to the masses. “Let us hear it for the King—may he live far longer than the last!” 

The crowd surges to life, chanting his name over and over, their voices a fevered, mindless echo that chills him to the bone.