Twisted Roads Of Madness – Three Hundred And Sixty-Five Days

Originally I planned to write a big piece about how, after a solid year, after three hundred and sixty-five days, I’d managed to not only post a new story each and every day, but, at times posted multiple stories, creating more than I originally intended to post, it was going to be a massive self pat on the back. But, it seems, from what I am to understand, that is not true.

There is a problem, one I’m sure you’ve noticed over the last month, for the sake of helping you understand, we’ll call the problem, Marty.

But how can a fictional character be a problem, surely it was still me creating the stories, it was still upholding the rules of the challenge? Right?

Wrong…

I received a cryptic phone call late yesterday afternoon, it was then I found myself in a conversation with a man who would not give his name, he just said, for theatrical purposes, his words, I could call him The Fear Master.

Okay, I know, over the last week I introduced a character by that very name to take over the blog as a way of continuing some sort of imbalance to the site, a higher authority who ruled over all, for everyone.

Anyway, he told me that Marty wasn’t ready to leave, neither was our other friend, and, that me giving Marty form, power of the blog, and a voice, had, well, had caused problems that cannot be easily resolved.

His argument was that Marty had taken some twenty days from my year long challenge, and in giving those days to him, I had not fulfilled the agreed upon deal. In doing this, he said I created a paradox overlapping this reality with Marty’s false reality, allowing not only Marty existence to be possible, but, the other as well, which has created a bigger problem, but, he has a solution.

I hung up the phone, he called back straight away, I did the whole don’t call back again crap, and once again hung up the phone, he of course called again, this time I didn’t bother putting it to my ear, I just slammed it down, and took it off the hook.

That was the end of the story, bang, over and out, some wack job wants to play stupid fucks, he can go elsewhere.

Of course, it wasn’t the end of it, was it.

 I woke to the sound of someone humming around three, my wife was snoring beside me, the dog, doing the same at the foot of the bed. I rolled over and caught a glimps of someone moving past the bedroom door, instantly I was awake, I jumped out of bed, and rushed out into the hallway. Except, it want the hallway, it was a white room, where a smiling man, who looked familiar, but I don’t know why, was standing in front of another, who was sitting down on a seat in front of him, next to a busted up table. The man didn’t need to turn around, I knew who he was, but he did anyway, his face screwed up with hate and he charged at me. I had no fucking clue what to do, but as I braced myself he exploded into dust. Leaving me and the smiling man alone in the room, that’s when I noticed the other one, in the corner, it looked at me with its soulless, black eyes, but before anything could happen I woke up in bed.

I know it sounds like another crazy story, and with all the insanity that’s been going on here, I don’t blame you for not believe me, because I don’t.

But, an hour ago I got another call from the so called Fear Master, he asked me if I was ready to play his game, I asked him who he really was and he just laughed and said tomorrow we start, then hung up.

So, instead of celebrating a milestone, I’m scared, for I have no idea, what tomorrow will bring.

 

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.

4 thoughts on “Twisted Roads Of Madness – Three Hundred And Sixty-Five Days

  1. CONGRATULA….. wait!… what!? Not what I expected, weird shit is going on though. No jokes, I was working on my Roundhead themed self portrait last night, put pc in standby, went to bed. This morning PC monitors would not turn on, tried everything, then went to make a coffee and from the kitchen i can see the monitors and on one I see my blown up portrait staring at me from the office, clear as day. So cool PCs fixed, I finish in the kitchen and go back to office, black screens again, won’t come on. PC can be glitchy, so I left it for a while. Then it happened again! Went to bringing shopping in from the car, saw the portrait, after finishing with shopping, went in, black screens, nothing. Restarted pc and all is normal, but I got a little chill I tell you😧

    Liked by 2 people

      1. Well if this shit is real, then I’m guessing it’s already too late and we’re screwed!😥

        Like

      2. ¡noʎ ǝq ǝɯ ʇǝl ‘ʇno ǝɯ ʇǝl ‘uᴉs ɹnoʎ ɥɔnoʇ ʇsoɯlɐ uɐɔ I ‘uǝdo ʇsoɯlɐ sᴉ ʎɐʍɹoop ǝɥ┴

        Liked by 1 person

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