Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Silence Instead of a Beat

A short horror by Matthew Tonks

A smile hides something unholy, a laugh dances on the edge of ruin. In a corridor that becomes a field of fire and decay, Cassandra discovers that silence can lie louder than screams—and that trust is the quickest path to damnation.

---

Her smile curls. She screws her nose up and holds her hands tightly behind her back. She puckers her lips as the lights fuse and die around her. Then, with a leap and a hop, she skips down the empty corridor. The world splits, cheers break out—bodies, waves of water, a crowded room, claps, insults heaved upon her—yet through it all her smile only grows wider. She gently tilts her head side to side as she skips. A demented void hums, a hymn both deep and gothic, swelling beneath the noise. She stops, presenting her left foot and then her right—a jig, a prance. She giggles, pressing a hand to her mouth as her cheeks glow red, her face painted like a marionette. Her arms hang at her sides, her head tilted, her knees knock.

The hymns, the words, grow louder, the chanting now heavy with venom. Her head jolts upright, and she holds her palms beneath her chin, smiling stupidly. The hallway surges—a pull, a shift—now a room, then a hall, a stadium, and finally a field swallowed by darkness. She stands silent—the leaves, stalks, head-high grass swaying gently in the wind. Her brow falls, and she stammers, a tear slipping from her eye.

“H-H-Hello?” she whispers.

“H-Hello,” a voice whispers back.

She squeals and grips her mouth, her chest heaving, blood boiling, breaths ragged. Minutes collapse around her as she trembles, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Are you there?” the voice whispers.

She whimpers through her fingers and clutches her face tighter.

“Ahhh, I get it. You’re in a strange place, and you don’t know who to trust, so the best thing to do is trust no one. It’s a good tactic—seen plenty try the same. Some manage a few hours, but no one lasts the whole day. No one makes it back.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, scrunches her nose, and clenches her jaw before whispering, “W-Where are we?”

“There you are,” the voice says. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Where are we?” she asks again.

“If you don’t know, I can’t say.”

“W-What?”

“I know, right? It’s kinda kooky, but if you don’t actually know you’re in Hell, I can’t tell you.”

“B-B-But you just d-did,” she stammers.

“So I did,” the voice says with a sudden hike in pitch. “But you know that only means you’re the liar, not me—because if you didn’t already know, then I wouldn’t be able to tell you!”

“B-B-But how do I know y-you’re telling t-the truth?”

“Are you the liar—now calling me a liar too?” she roars.

Flames of red flicker in the distance—the night sky empty, a sea of arms reaching out, silent cries, desperate pleas. For a moment the field displays itself like a secret map in a game—then it is gone, and she stutters a breath.

The woman’s voice laughs. Rows snap, and something moves toward her.

“You’re a gutless whore, Cassandra. You don’t deserve my grace,” she barks.

Cassandra stammers and gasps—a breath caught, a cough, a gag.

“Having fun yet?” the demonic voice roars as a ball of fire hurtles through the field, lighting the world in a new shade of disgusting. The cane field lies broken and rotting, a sea of decay collapsing into grotesque ruin. Maggots writhe in diseased fruit as a blanket of flies descends, smothering the rot in their filthy touch. Cassandra dives to the ground, flames licking the back of her skull. She glances back in panic—and there stands a grotesquely pieced-together woman. Eyes bulge from folds of flesh, boils fester and burst, her face a pulped mess of rot. She balances on one leg longer than the other, seven arms reaching toward Cassandra, her stomach swollen heavy with child, dragging close to the earth.

Cassandra turns to run—only to stop as the woman appears before her, blocking the path, a wide grin painted across her putrid face.

“I see you!” she mocks, reaching out toward her.

---

💬 Did this one echo?
Tell me—before it forgets your name.

—
Written by Matthew Tonks
→ Read more nightmares at mtonks.com

Like what bled out here?
Share it. Scream it. Feed it to a friend.

#ShortHorror #Creepypasta #MatthewTonks #TwistedRoads #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror