Twisted Roads Of Madness – That Sinking Feeling

Not long after I posted my last post, my daughter came to me crying, totally inconsolable, and it took a good fifteen minutes to finally get her to calm down enough to even talk to us, and when she finally started to make sense I rushed to her room searching it from top to bottom.

She told us the man in her room had yelled at her, normally he was nice and played with her, but today his wasn’t being nice at all.

When I asked her what this man looked like she picked up a scrap of paper off the floor and held it up, saying this was the man.

I grabbed what little mattered and took everyone to the hotel we are now sitting in, some twelve blocks from our home, my wife thinks I’m crazy, but she can’t deny that our daughter has been acting strange the last few days, and she has felt an uncomfortable feeling in the house. So, I’ve spent the last few minutes pouring though security footage of my daughters room. Yes, sadly I’m one of those high tech dads who fit their babies room out with cameras so we would sleep soundly at night knowing she was okay.

So far I haven’t seen anything unusual, but, the footage from before she ran out of the bedroom is missing, the camera for some reason stopped recording, that doesn’t make me feel safe. Regardless, once everyone’s settled, I’m going back to the house tonight, I have to find out what the bloody hell’s going on, because if somethings threatening my family, I have to stop it.

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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