Day 265 – Frantic Motion – Short Story

“You have to trust me,” he says, as he stares into her hopeless eyes, she nods her head, biting into her lip as she does.

“With everything I have,” she says.

He smiles, “Good, because, what we’re about to do, requires you to do exactly what I say, when I say it. You can’t stop and think, you can’t wonder why, you just have to move, no thinking, no stopping, just one, flowing, unrelenting, movement, do you understand?”

“I understand Kevin, and, I trust you,” she says as she places her hand out for him to take, he looks down at her hand, then back up to her face.

“I can’t carry you, I can’t hold you, you have to follow, if you slip up, if you slow do, or stop, then it’s your problem not mine,” he says, she pulls her hand away in surprise, and he smiles once again. “Don’t think that should be anything to worry about, I love you, it’s just, I can’t do this if I’m carrying you as well, so, you have to just follow, listen and obey.”

“Okay, just tell me when?”

“A few more moments,” he says, as he looks back towards the towering landscape that is before them, fires burn, the earth crumbles, falling into the abyss below, and he studies their path, towards a little grey tile, that, holds their salvation, their hope, and more importantly, their freedom. “NOW!” He yells, as he leaps forward, grabbing at a dangling electrical cord, and swings down to the ground, she quickly follows after, they both run forward, dodging pieces of buildings crashing to the ground, and then, in turn, ripping holes in the ground, that give way to an unending abyss of nothingness that seems to be sitting just underneath the earths crust. They run, forward, closing in on the tile, the platform, he glaces over his shoulder, and locks eyes with her for a moment, the look on her face, is one of dread,and all too late, does he turn around, to find himself tumbling headlong, into the nothingness.

He hears her cry out, and then silence that’s followed moments later by a computerized voice, declare him dead, and he lets out a stuttered, long breath, as the headset is removed from his eyes, and stares at the screen, as she makes it onto the platform, and, completes the level.



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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