Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Between a Hard Place

“I said it wasn’t what you wanted, but you still failed to give a damn. Now that it’s come back and kicked sand in your face, you come crawling back, begging me for help. How about no? How about you reap what you sow!” Henry spits the words with venom, his lips curled and brow furrowed.

Shawn lets out a long-winded sigh, glances over his shoulder, and slaps the duffel bag onto the table in front of him. He unzips it quickly, but Henry places a hand on his and looks him in the eye, his gaze stern.

“If what I think is in that bag, you have to understand what happens to everything you’ve touched with the rock. You need to know how it works.”

Shawn shoves his hand away and finishes unzipping the bag, revealing a large green crystal rock.

“I—I don’t care! J-Just do it! Get rid of it—and the t-things following me!” he stammers, casting another nervous glance over his shoulder, his eyes widening as shadows move in the corners of the room. He turns back quickly, a fresh sea of sweat running down his brow. “I just w-want them gone, OKAY! I-I-I, I just want them GONE!”

Henry frowns, closes his eyes, and lets out a slow breath. “If I make them go away—if I reverse the rock’s influence—everything you’ve done, every little moment you’ve spent with the rock making this life you’ve built, will need to be unwritten. Every person you’ve met because of it, you’ll unmeet. Their memories will be torn from their minds, and—” he clicks his fingers for emphasis—“it ain’t pretty. It’s a bloody nightmare that folds in on itself for a season or two—summer and spring shit. Some people don’t survive the purge—most take their own lives. Do you understand? Do you feel what I’m saying?”

“Do I care? No, not really! Do I care about these fucking things following me?” Shawn says, glancing back over his shoulder again before meeting Henry’s stare. “Yeah, yeah, I fucking do. So, if someone has to pay the price, let it be someone else who’s not me.”

Henry smiles faintly. “Are you sure? Last chance. As soon as I touch the rock, the process starts and can’t be stopped—no matter how much you plead, no matter how hard you beg. Once it’s done, it’s done—the spectres go away, the memories are pulled, and they come home to di—”

“JUST FUCKING DO IT ALREADY!” Shawn bellows. He pulls the rock from the bag, grabs Henry’s hand, and slams the crystal into it.

The room shakes. The lights flicker. The walls crack. Thick fog seeps up from the floor, and a sea of bodies swamps them—murmuring, whispering. Void-like forms, empty shadows of what once was.

Henry smiles faintly as Shawn spins around in panic. “W-W-What’s happening? W-What are these things?”

“Like I was telling you, the shadows are the memories stolen from everyone the rock touched,” Henry replies calmly. “Memories torn from their minds and left here to rot, with the only person who remembers they existed— you.”

Shawn’s face contorts in horror. “W-What? A-Are you telling me I—I’m stuck with these things f-forever?”

Henry lets out a low laugh. “No, not forever,” he says, his grin broadening. “But I’m pretty sure it’s gonna feel like it.”