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.

A Million Miles Down Without a Line

Slowly, the world around him edges its way back into focus. First softly—glimmers of light, hums—then clear and coherent sounds. Then all at once, he is back again. His eyes spring open as he kicks and waves his arms and legs in a frenzied panic. A sea of bubbles explodes from his suit, quickly and frantically making their way to the surface, some distance away.

He shoots a glance upwards, watching the bubbles bleed and disappear into the darkness above. He swallows an uncomfortable mouthful of air and looks back down, towards the faint, humming light hidden behind the underwater mountains before him. He takes one desperate breath after another, only to feel panic rising as a blinking red light begins flashing in his helmet, warning him of his excessive oxygen use and rapidly depleting supply.

“River One, do you copy? This is Freshwater Sam. Come in!” he grunts through trembling teeth.

His visor hisses and crackles, and for a moment, lost in the waves of static, he thinks he hears a voice cut through the murkiness. He strains to listen, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth, holding his breath, and praying for the voice to return. Then the static drops into silence, and all he can hear is the fevered gasps of his breathing and the suit’s warnings flashing in his visor.

His fingers tremble as he clenches them into tight fists, then releases them again. He looks out into the murky distance, his gaze drifting down once more to the mysterious light below, an almost magnetic pull drawing him toward it.

He’s thrown into a spin as a school of fish swims past him in a mad rush, then another, and another, until a pod of whales follows behind, all heading in line towards the light glowing in the distance. He floats aimlessly, pushed by the current, dragged by the tide left by the behemoths as it pulls him downward. He clutches at the water, trying to realign himself, struggling to control his descent. But the pull is too strong, and as more sea creatures pass him, the stronger the pull toward the seabed becomes.

His breath catches in his chest as he draws closer and closer, drifting over the mountains and into the valley below. There, a city—a kingdom—glitters with light and wonder. He gasps, choking on the air as his helmet’s alarms scream at him. A line of static breaks the silence—followed by a low hum.

“I-I… I can see such wonders here, son. It’s—so beautiful,” a voice whispers, trembling with emotion.

He sucks in a stuttered breath.

“D-D-Dad?” he cries, as tears cascade down his cheeks.

“It’s okay, son, you don’t have to worry anymore,” his dad’s voice says softly. He can see several figures rising from the light below, coming towards him. Sirens scream, lights flash, sweat pours down his brow. He gasps and gags, desperately grabbing at anything, his lungs screaming, his chest burning.

The figures close in, and his eyes gape open, his lips curling.

“Let go, boy. It’s time to come home,” his dad says, as the figures draw close enough to touch. For a moment, he sees his father’s face within the group, but it blurs and changes. The face changes—first his mother’s, then his sister’s, then someone he recognises but can’t name. The faces flash one after another, and though he wants to close his eyes, he can’t. Then he sees his own face reflected back at him, warped and hollow, eyes wide and unblinking.

He stifles a scream as each face blends into the next, forming an endless chain of twisted, mirrored versions of himself and everyone he’s loved. The outer glass of his visor cracks, and his heart pounds as the figures blur and merge, all converging toward him in a vast, inescapable tide. Another slow crack sounds—a warning, a wailing—and the sea comes alive around him, humming its own song, colours swaying. The dull sound of an oboe vibrates through him, growing deeper and longer as it reverberates in his bones.

He gasps one last time, and then, as the crack splits his helmet in two, the pressure implodes around him in a crude burst of red.