Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

The Other Side of the Door

The door shudders with each impact as Stewart drives his shoulder into it, slamming hard against the wood. He screams, he cries, he begs.

“Damien! Can you hear me? Damien—let me in!” he shouts, his voice haggard and raw. Damien sits unmoving, empty eyes fixed on the door, huddled on the floor and hugging his legs tight against his chest. His lip trembles, his empty gaze wide and almost pulsing.

“Please, Damien!” Stewart howls, his voice breaking. Every inch of his body throbs with exhaustion and pain, yet he forces himself to keep pounding on the door. Each impact jolts up his arm—skin raw and burning—and still he persists. Shadows swim around him, thickening and seeming almost alive—suffocating him in a haze of panicked desperation.

“Damien! Damien! Let me in! Let me save you like I swore I would!” he cries, pressing his lips to the door. He runs his hands along its edge, searching for a crack to peer through—pressing himself tight and scrambling—until at last he finds a glimmer of light. Then he sees him.

Damien sits, huddled—and to Stewart’s horror, the vile beast that has haunted his dreams is there, its long arms draped over Damien, a wicked grin stretched across its lips. In the dim light, shadows flicker and swell behind them, casting monstrous shapes that writhe against the walls.

“LET HIM GO!” Stewart cries, tears streaming down his face as he throws himself back, kicking the door over and over. Still, it holds—unyielding.

He scrambles back to the crack, squinting through the narrow gap. He recoils—heart hammering—as the creature presses its own eyes to the other side, peering back at him. Its voice oozes through—low and mocking—each word a threat disguised in sweetness.

“Go away, child. He is mine. You had your chance—you had your time, but you let him go. You forgot, but I—I did not. I have been here for him, while you were away, living your life. Go, leave us, and know that you are unworthy. While I—I am his all.”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Stewart screams. “DAMIEN! DAMIEN!”

The creature laughs, its gaze shifting between Damien’s silent figure and Stewart’s desperate, petrified eyes through the crack.

“It is too late,” it purrs, words dripping with smugness. “He is mine.”

Stewart pounds desperately at the door, his fists raw and red, smearing bloody marks against the wood with each impact. Inside, the creature grins—broad and menacing—as it strides toward Damien. It pauses, turning back to the doorway, and strokes Damien’s hair with long, spindly fingers. The grin stretches wider as Stewart’s pounding and screams grow louder, more frantic, more unhinged.

Damien looks up at the creature, a faint, sleepy smile tugging at his lips. “W-Who’s at the door, Papi?” he whispers.

The creature’s expression softens as it cups Damien’s chin, stroking his face gently. “No one, my little pup,” it purrs, its voice dripping with malice. “No one at all.”