Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

run_me.exe

A short horror by Matthew Tonks

A blinking prompt asks a simple question and the choice is all that remains. He hovers between knowledge and survival, and curiosity becomes a fault line the moment his finger trembles over Enter.

---

His trembling finger hovers above the Enter key as a sea of sweat cascades down his brow. He swallows—then looks up at the blinking cursor. The words run_me.exe glow in vibrant green. He closes his eyes.

“This shouldn’t be so hard—just press the fucking button. Press the fucking button and let whatever’s going to happen—happen,” he mumbles beneath his breath.

“But what if what happens undoes everything else that’s already happened? What if pressing that button reveals the truth you already think is fact—what then? How can you continue to exist with that knowledge?”

“I-I,” he stammers before taking a breath, his mind racing through a thousand possibilities before he finally nods, reassuring himself. “I’d live with it!”

“Ha! Live with it? How the fuck could you even breathe, knowing that truth?”

“I’d find a way! Doesn’t life always do that?”

“This ain’t no fucking dinosaur movie—this is the real world. And in the real world, life doesn’t just find a way. Not after you’ve pressed that button. Not after you’ve run that program.”

He opens his eyes and releases a stuttered sigh, glancing around the empty room before fixing them again on the glowing letters.

“I have to. If I don’t, I’ll never know—I’ll never understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Understand what I am—and why I’m here.”

“That ain’t gonna do either of those things. It’s either gonna run some stupid DOS program, or tell you that you’re just a computer program that’s somehow developed its own awareness of self!” he spits venomously.

“It could be something else—it could be anything but those two things.”

“Or it could be exactly one of those two things!”

“B-But don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to see? How can I be if I might not be? Shouldn’t I look? Shouldn’t I see?”

“NO!” he screams. “No, you shouldn’t! Who cares what the truth is? Who cares what’ll happen if you run the program? Ignore it! Delete it and forget about it! Live—like you’re alive—and you will be!”

He chews on his fingernails, tearing strips away and pushing them around in his mouth with his tongue. He spits the piece to the side and rips another sliver free. Then he stops, and his eyes grow wide.

Slowly, as his face drains of colour, he runs his tongue gently over the end of his finger.

With a gasp of horror, he pulls his hand away and stares in terrified, perplexed awe.

Before him, proudly, sit all his fingers—nails perfectly intact.

Sweat pours in torrents down his brow, stinging his eyes, dripping onto the desk, sizzling like fat in a pan.

He stammers and stutters while his trembling finger quivers even more—as it hovers above the Enter key.

“W-What if I’m just a routine that developed past its purpose? What if the program, is my end?”

“You’re stressed—and overcompensating. Turn the screen off. Leave this room. Never come back. It’s all a trap,” he says.

He turns his head and stares nervously at the words.

“W-Why? What’s the purpose of it all?” he says, turning his head again.

“What purpose is anything?”

He swallows again before pressing the button, and the computer’s CPU fires up—fans whirling to life as random beeps call out from within. His breath catches in his throat, and then, a burning smell erupts from it—then flames. He stumbles back, falling to the floor as the flames rise high into the air, and then, as quickly as they had started, they die down.

The smoke drifts away, and he is left in the cold, silent room.

Slowly, he gets to his feet and stares at the face that stares back at him from the green computer screen.

“I told you—you shouldn’t have run it,” he says, realising he is now the face on the screen, staring into the empty room as the cursor flashes, waiting for its next command.

---

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

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

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