Day 255 – The Promise – Short Story

“It’s simple, like I said before, I cut your throats, your blood drains down, filling the circle, and then I say a few words from this here book, and you’ll rise again, immortal, powerful. Like me,” he says with a smile, as he plays with a bone handled knife.

“How do we know this isn’t some trick, some wired fucked up ritual that you have to do every few hundred years to make sure you keep your youth?” One of the four women says.

He laughs, “Please, if I wanted to do that, do you really think I’d go to such great lengths?”

“Maybe you need us to cooperate? Maybe the calmer we are, the better,” another one says.

He turns to her and smiles broadly, “I can see how that would make sense, but if it was going to be that important, don’t you think you’d know, you’d be willing to do what I wish if you? No, no, this is not anything but what I have promised, this is your becoming.”

“I still don’t understand why?” Another one says.

“Why what?” He asks.

“Why us? Why offer us this gift? This blessing?”

“Haven’t we done this already? You four, you god damn special four, know my secret, stole my wealth, tried to destroy my life, why shouldn’t I offer you this as well? You think you’re worthy of immortality, then let me offer it to you,” he says, smiling nervously.

“See that’s the part I don’t get, we’ve made your life a mess, but now, you offer us a reward, something smells rotten, and it’s coming from you.”

“If you don’t want it, that’s your decision, I’m only offering you the chance, if not,” he says, standing. “Then that is fine as well, I can leave, and we all forget this ever happened.”

“No, we want it, we just want to make sure, you hold up the end of your deal.”

He smiles broadly once more, “My side is rock solid, you just have to do your part,” he says, walking over towards a large metal table. “Now, who’s first?” He asks.

“I guess I should considering I started all this,” one of them says, as she gets up and walks over towards him, climbs onto the table, and lies down. “Is this right?” She asks nervously, her bottom lip trembling.

“Perfect, you were his first choice as well,” he says as he slices the blade quickly across her throat.

“HEY!” One of them yells, “What do you mean, his?”

He turns to her, his eyes black, endless pools of nothingness, and smiles. “You’ll see soon enough, he wants you next.”


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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