Day 286 – Days – Short Story

“I remember what it felt like, when they came and took them, I still,” his lip quivers as he looks to the ground, his eyes widen, and she places a hand on his.

“It’s okay to fell the pain, no one will judge you, you have to let go,” she says.

“I-I-I, I wish I could, I really do,” he says, looking up at her as a tear runs down his face. “I still smell the blood, the saltiness of it still,” he puckers his lips, as he moves his tongue around in his mouth. “I still taste it, as if it’s still somehow stuck within the confines of my mouth somewhere.”

“It’s just your mind, playing tricks on your senses, you’ve lived with this for too long, held onto the pain, the horror of that night, and, well, and you’ve let it define who you are, you’ve let it run your life, control everything you do, when, you should’ve let go of it a long time ago.”

“H-H-Have you lost anyone?” He asks, his eyes searches hers.

“No, not like you have, I’ve had family members die, naturally but not, not in the way you lost yours.”

“There’s nothing natural about death woman, it’s the most unnatural thing we as humans face, we live with the constant fear of death, letting it control every thing we are, I do not let that be my case, instead I choose differently, I choose to embrace life, without the fear, without the necessity for it, and in that hope, I defeat it.”

She smiles nervously, “You create fear by doing what you do, don’t you see that? Don’t you see by doing what you do, you bring people that which you, yourself say, you strive to rid, this obsession, this embracing you do, is nt…”

“How dare you,” he says, as he leaps to his feet and grabs her by the hair, pulling her head up, from the metal dish it sits in, tubes and wires dangle from her head and throat, leading down to various other devices and containers, interlinking to other severed limbs. “I am a god, I defeat death, I give life, and you!” He hisses, as he grabs hold of the tubes and wires. “You are but a toy for my amusement!” He yells as he rips them from the head, and tosses it to the ground, her eyes, move slowly towards him, and she smiles once more.

“Thank youuuuuuuuu…” she says softy, as she falls silent.


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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