Day 254 – Stones – Short Story

I didn’t think I was going to be able to go through with it, hell I don’t think anyone did, so you can imagine their surprise when I did it.

Did what, is that what you’re all asking right now? I mean, you must be. None of you know me, none of you know what happened, or why, so you’re obviously asking yourself, what is this guy talking about. So, to save you anymore wonder, I’ll tell you everything, I mean, obviously, not everything, somethings, are, well, a waste of time telling you, but other things, the important stuff, I won’t skip over, because they make it all the more interesting.

It started last week, when Big John came back into town, his mum had passed away a week before, and his dad had taken it bad, real bad, John, who had to quit his job, well okay, maybe he didn’t have to, but he quit his job and returned home, to be with him, and together, hopefully, both of them could heal some what. I know, if you’ve never lost anyone close you don’t understand, you could never understand, and that’s not what this story is about, because, I haven’t, I mean, I’ve lost family, I’ve lost a friend here and there, but I haven’t lost someone close, so, this isn’t about anything like that.

Anyway, John returned home, moved back into the house he grew up with, and tried to help his dad put this life back together, the best way he could.

I ran into him for the first time three days ago, a lot had changed since we were kids, I’d filled out, grew into my skin, and, well, changed. John on the other hand, was the same, almost as if time had stopped for him, and he just stayed like he was when we were back in school. Which was a major plus, see, I had always had a thing for John, but, he was way out of my league, and I was, well, not someone John would really have anything to do with, so when he came over to me and asked if I was Becky Watts, I almost lost my shit, I stumbled my words out, assured him that I indeed was Becky, and that did he want to sit, which he did. For the next few hours we chatted about our lives, the changes that we had made, and well, whatever else happened to pop up.

When we had finally talked as much as we could and it became obvious that it was time to go our separate ways, I extended a hand, and said it was great catching up, and we should do it again real soon. He blushed, I mean, Big John Duggan blushed, so, I did as well, he said that would be great, and he would love to catch up again, soon, and so, we exchanged phone numbers, and he went his way, and I went my way.

Now, you’re probably telling yourself, what the hell, this is not some crazy thing. This is not some out there insane story that needed clarification, this is life, well, to be honest, I was just giving you the set up, because what happened later, well that is where everything took a crazy turn.

John called up at about three in the morning, apparently he had no one else to call, his dad had overdosed on sleeping pills, and according to the paramedics, if John didn’t act when he did, it would’ve been too late. He was at the hospital, so I rushed to his side, I stayed there until morning, and we both left, he asked me in for coffee, which I accepted, and the next thing I knew, we were both entangled in each others arms and in the bedroom, we got hot and heavy, and we were both down to our underwear, when I pull away, I knew it was time, I had to tell him.

The look in his eyes was surprising I have to admit, and then, when he said he knew I wasn’t Becky the whole time, made my jaw drop, but when he grabbed me by my hard cock and told me to shut up, I lost my shit right then and there, and he just smiled, and kissed me and said, we’ve got plenty of time.

 

The End

Published by

Matthew Tonks

People are surprised when reading Matthew’s stories that he’s a sane forty something year old, happily married, father of one, employed full time and dream of dark disturbing things that any sane person would never even contemplate thinking of. But it's true, he’s toyed with writing for most of his adult life, but has always found the peg a writer must fit into is not the shape he wished to be. His writing can be described as lamenting, long, concussive (yes it smashes you in the head), compulsive, and stuffed with rhythmic communication and violence, let’s not forget the violence. His own opinion on his writing is this, “You see, I don't just want the words to seep into your mind, but into your soul, showing you images of blood and beauty through, volatile language, violence, sex, love and sin. My muse takes different shapes, and every now and then you can see her shining her wicked smile in some of my stories, tempting you with her promises, but ripping your heart out instead.” So have a look, and take a seat in my wayward ride, as you join me while I purge through, this twisted road of madness.

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