Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

What Hides in Mother’s Milk

The fluorescent light hums, flooding the room with its cold, white glow. A nervous smile ripples across his trembling lips like a wave crashing against the shore. He rolls his neck to the side before reaching into a trough full of thick white liquid and pulling out a severed leg. He gently places it on a stainless steel table, takes a step back, and admires it, squinting one eye shut as his lips pucker.

He takes a breath and steps around the table. Lifting the leg by its base, he peers down its length, places it back down, then quickly rushes to the other end and clutches the leg once again, eagerly examining the cut at the hip joint where the leg was severed. His gaze shifts to the nurse, frozen in place, her face pale.

“I’ll need the hacksaw,” he says, his voice sharp. “We’ve got a strange discolouration around the cauterisation site. If we attach it as-is, the body could reject it, and our lovely patient will most undoubtedly die of infection.”

He cradles his jaw in thought, then snaps, “The hacksaw, woman! Now!”

The nurse jumps, grabbing the tool from a tray of what one would call semi-clean, almost sterile, instruments and slaps it into his waiting hand. He places the blade against the leg and drags it back, tearing through the soft, meaty flesh with a wet squelch as milky fluid spills out.

With ease, he saws through the flesh, but when the blade hits bone, it grinds, sticking fast. Patrick groans, sweat dripping down his face as he yanks at the saw. He pushes, then yanks again. The blade chews its way free, and he stumbles back. Letting out a frustrated grunt, he pulls the flesh apart at the cut and grimaces loudly.

“Damn rot,” he mutters, scrunching his nose and gritting his teeth tightly. “If it’s reached the base of the femur, this leg will be useless!”

He adjusts the blade and begins cutting again, his teeth clenched. The saw snarls through the tissue, but as before, when he reaches bone, it jams once more. Frustration flares as he jerks at the blade and strikes it with his palm, but it refuses to budge.

“Give me the other hacksaw!” he growls, his trembling hand outstretched.

The nurse doesn’t move, her wide-eyed stare frozen in place.

“For God’s sake, the hacksaw!” he bellows, shaking his hand furiously.

Startled, the nurse rushes forward and, in her panic, thrusts the hacksaw blades-first into his outstretched hand. The jagged teeth bite deep, severing three fingers and half of his thumb.

Patrick screams, stumbling backward as blood splatters across the floor. The table rocks violently, sending the severed leg tumbling to the ground. The trough wobbles, its thick white liquid sloshing over the edge and spilling onto the floor.

Clutching his mangled hand, Patrick thrusts it into the liquid, his scream echoing through the room. He turns to the nurse, now collapsed in a heap on the floor, unconscious.

His lips tremble as his face twists in agony. The fiery pain in his hand intensifies. He pulls it from the trough and stares in horror as hundreds of thin, writhing tendrils cling to his torn flesh.

Patrick staggers back, his eyes wide as something stirs within the liquid. Slowly, a massive, unblinking eye rises to meet his gaze.

He freezes, his breath caught in his throat. The creature’s enormous mouth opens, revealing a sea of jagged, razor-sharp teeth.

A warm trickle runs down Patrick’s leg as the beast lunges. Its jaws snap shut, severing his head from his shoulders in a single, clean bite.