Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

A Hole Not Even for One

A short horror by Matthew Tonks

A man sits in his truck at dawn with the country watching and a memory that will not stay buried. Guilt loosens the seams of the world until what he tried to hide becomes a harsh, hungry accusation.

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The lights cut through the dark like a wet knife, soft and heavy all at once, the bushes and trees clawing at the beam as if trying to drag it back into the dark. The pickup’s engine hums low, each sudden rattle climbing from its depths like something trapped beneath the metal and desperate to escape. The early morning dew is suffocated under the truck’s foul, grimy exhaust as the engine breathes its stench across the earth. His empty, tired eyes stare outwards from the vehicle’s innards as if he’s afraid to blink. A gasp shudders out of him as a single tear drags its way down his face.

He tries to compose himself, chewing on his tongue as he runs it around the inside of his mouth, finding each gap left by the missing teeth, caressing the soft flesh of his cheeks. He draws back another breath, stuttered, tears now rolling down his broken face. The pickup trembles as a shudder vibrates its way through it, the lights flicker, gripped by oncoming morning, before he is left in silent darkness as the engine falls still.

“P-P-Please,” he whimpers as her piercing eyes cut into him from the passenger seat.

“Grow up!” she snaps. “What kind of monster are you?”

He clenches his jaw, drawing back a stuttered breath through his nose and snarls as his lips curl, trembling. “I-I-I.”

“You’re no monster!” she shoots back. “You’re nothing but a big baby who’s thrown a tantrum, and now mummy can’t kiss it better because she’s lying in a fucking hole, one that you couldn’t even dig properly!” She spits as the lights come back to life in an instant. The small mound of dirt is illuminated. He gasps, grabbing breaths desperately, finally catching one in the base of his chest as a frozen hand grabs his arm. He turns to her with wide, petrified eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.

He reaches, frantically tearing at the air as he screams for another breath, her widening smile feeding on his panic. She climbs over him, the sharp tang of copper and fresh dirt caressing his senses, teasing him with a memory he never wanted, but a chance still before him. She mounts him with unnatural ease and stares into his eyes, a wicked grin now adorning her bruised lips.

“What are you?” she purrs as she rubs her dead, dirty flesh against him, gently nibbling on his ear.

He gasps. She giggles, then bites down on his earlobe, tearing it from his head.

“What are you!” she screams as he forces her off him and tumbles out the truck’s door, slapping the earth with an awkward thud. The world spins for several moments before he scrambles to his feet, his eyes searching the pickup’s cab and the surrounding area, only to find her nowhere in sight. He clutches his ear, staring at his crimson hand as he pulls it back as if it belongs to someone else.

His face twists as he looks to the bushland, his eyes locked on the freshly turned mound of soil. His eyes widen and he gasps through ragged breaths as he reaches into the truck’s tray and drags out a dirty shovel, then stumbles wearily towards the mound of dirt.

“I’ll show you what I am!” he grunts, driving the shovel into the soft earth. “I’ll show you I’m a monster! I’ll show all of you fuckers!” he roars, casting a fevered glance around the clearing—hundreds of eyes staring back at him from the dark.

He gasps, flinging the shovel aside as he drops to his knees and wipes the dirt from her dead face. “I’ll make your death worth something. It won’t be in vain. It’ll be the crescendo in my story. You’ll be my making—and I’ll be your monster,” he mutters, fumbling with his belt. Her smile widens as she watches him from the pickup’s cab, knowing since the moment he split her open that this last filthy step was what she’d been starving for—the one that shows the world what she always knew he was hiding beneath that twisted smile of his.

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💬 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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