Day 256 – Play Your Hand – Short Story

“Play your hand vile demon, play your hand before I make my final move!” He bellows towards the cowering young man in the corner.

“Please, Teluo, you’ve got it all wrong, I’m not a monster!” He yells back.

“Don’t make me out to be a fool, for too long have you fooled me, for too long have I turned a blind eye to you and your deeds, tonight it ends, tonight I put you in the ground where you will rot like the grotesque piece of garbage you are!” Teluo yells as he charges forwards, twin blades drawn from their scabbard, light flicks of their glistering steel, as he storms closer, and closer, saliva dripping quickly from his twisted lips, and his eyes tight, focused, digging into his flesh well before the steel of his blades, two steps away, then one, he draws back, then, thrusts forward,  and then, he is nowhere, emptiness, a world empty of everything. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!” He screams, but nothing, he tries to move, but finds he cannot, this world, the place, this, nothing, holds him in place.

“COME ON YOU COWARD! COME SHOW YOU…” He stops midway though his sentence, as the darkness melts away, and his finds himself standing in an empty field, the sky dark, and grey, the grass, dead, and yellow, her blood, deep, bright, and vibrant, he stares at it, as it runs from the holes in her flesh, he gasps as she falls to her knees, they lock eyes one last time as HE slowly rises from behind her, his blade bloody and drawn, a smile upon his face.

“This is what you wanted wasn’t it, this is what you asked of me, called of me, begged of me, I told you Teluo, I said I was no monster, but you refused to believe me, you pushed me here, you killed her, you, killed them all,” he says, glancing quickly over his shoulder, Teluo’s eyes quickly follow his, and he sees them, in seas of red, his family, his friends, everyone he swore to protect.

“This can’t be,” he says softly as they lock eyes again.

“Oh, but it is,” he says, as she slices the sword swiftly through her neck, she drops to the ground as a fountain of blood sprays up from where her head once sat, Teluo screams, as his world slows down, and then, he feels the blade against his throat, and then, a sharp, soft, cold pain passes over him, and then, darkness once more.



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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