Twisted Endings: 5 Disturbing Stories

by Timothy D. McLendon

  “Do you think you’ll be the last?”

  She took a step forward. “What are you talking about?” The old woman didn’t know what was going on. She couldn’t. Jen noticed the crystal ball on the woman’s quaint, round table for the first time. How many suckers had looked into that ball to see whatever their minds had wanted them to see? That’s just great. A gypsy.

  The old woman stood and placed her hands on the ball. Her fingertips seemed to glow, faintly at first, then brighter than the lights in the main tent. She never broke eye contact with Jen.

  Jen gawked in amazement. The old woman released her hands from the ball and took a deep breath before returning to her seat. The crystal ball began to glow with the same light she had projected onto it.

  “Come, dear child,” the woman demanded. “I cannot retain the power forever.”

  Jen looked behind her, looked at the ball, then stepped toward the woman and sat across from her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the glowing crystal ball.

  “Hold my hand, dear. Don’t be afraid.”

  Jen hesitated but gave in and reached her hand across the table. The woman’s hand was gentle and warm.

  “Now look into the ball. It will reveal all.”

  Swirling clouds filled the center of the ball. The glowing faded, and Jen was disappointed, but then appeared some unmistakable images. She convulsed in disgust and turned away. “This is the future?”

  “If you make it so.”

  The old woman released her grip and the images in the ball disappeared. The room seemed dark at that moment. What Jen had seen was not possible. Not in this world.

  “I wish. But how could I accomplish such a thing?”

  The old woman smiled for the first time. She reached beneath the table and returned with a small flask full of a clear liquid. “With this. I have spent many years making this for you. The time has come.”

  Jen looked at the liquid and considered the consequences. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Who are you? How is any of this possible?”

  The old woman stared at her and smiled.

  Jen stood and prepared to walk out. This isn’t something she was ready to deal with. “Thank you, but....” She looked at the flask. Something within her shouted Take it, take it! They deserve it! She reached across the table and grabbed the flask.

  “You’re forgetting something.”

  Jen looked at the woman, confused. “What? No. I have the flask.”

  The woman shook her head and pointed to her right. A large sign on the side of the tent read: Fortunes read for $2. Jen apologized and fished two dollars out of her pocket.

  “Such a small price for something so big.”

  “Only you can determine the value.”

  Jen understood what the woman meant. She thanked her and scouted the landscape outside the tent. Her captors could be anywhere. No, she wouldn’t do this. She couldn’t.

  “Jen,” the old woman called behind her. “You’ll be okay. You should know, I was the first.”

  JEN STEPPED out of the main tent and stared at the tent where John housed the amazing flea circus. The lights were off. The gate was still open. What were the chances that he was inside? She looked down at the flask, took a deep breath and walked toward the tent.

  This could be suicide. It’s insane. But the images she had seen in the crystal ball prophesied otherwise. She jumped when a leaf landed on her arm. Her breathing became quicker as she approached the flea man’s tent.

  She stared at the gate for more than a minute before tugging on it. It seemed like a trap. You’re safe. Just keep walking. Get in. Get out.

  She scoped the aisles when she entered the tent. She convinced herself no one was around. This is the only way. She ran to the suitcase on top of the table now. It’s still here. Thank God.

  Jen opened the suitcase and smiled to find the small plastic sleeves the fleas were said to be housed in. She checked behind her every few seconds to make sure she was alone. She ripped open the sleeves, released their contents on top of the steel table and took one final look at the flask.

  “Here goes nothing.” She emptied the clear liquid over the supposed fleas and stood back.

  Within seconds, soft screeching sounds came forth from the table. They became louder. A black limb, or tentacle, shot over the tabletop.

  Jen bolted for the exit. It’s true! It’s all true! She stopped outside the gate. Still no sign of the flea man or Bill. The plan couldn’t work without them. She had to make sure everything happened as the crystal ball had promised. She had to know.

  Jen entered the main tent again. The attendant was no longer present. A huge perpetual clock showed that Bobo the Bear would be on in three minutes. Perfect. She stepped into the bleachers and took a seat. She wouldn’t miss this show for the world.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for...”

  Jen knew that voice. She would never forget it. She focused on the man speaking in the center of the ring. It’s him. It’s the flea man.

  “Bobo the Bear!” John motioned towards an entrance for the bear. The bear didn’t come out. “Bobo the Bear!” he repeated

  The crowd’s applause stopped when a hideous black creature entered the ring behind him.

  “And now, Bobo will—” John fell silent. He stared at the parasite. It dragged itself toward him on long rear claws and what appeared to be two front legs. It stood six feet tall. Its body seemed to be made of steel, covered in sharp hairs and spikes. Its movements were slow, calculated, like a lion preparing to pounce on its prey.

  Another parasite entered the ring, but this one appeared to be dragging a live animal behind it. The animal was mangled and squealed like a wild pig.

  Jen smiled.

  As it drew closer to the crowd, it became clear that the thing being dragged was a man.

  Hello, Bill.

  “Oh my God!” a woman shouted. “We’ve got to get outta here!”

  Two more parasites appeared at the entrances on either side of the tent. They stood on their hind claws, making them nine feet tall. They hissed at the crowd. The screaming in the audience was unbearable.

  Everyone watched as one of the parasites dragged Bill to the far right of the ring, where the high wire act took place. Another of the parasites left his post by the entrance and joined them at the high wire. It brandished rows of teeth larger than machetes and sharper than scalpels, and used them to shred the safety net beneath the high wire. The parasite jumped up to the high wire in less than two seconds.

  The crowd gasped.

  “What the —?” the man next to Jen said.

  “Haven’t you heard?” she asked. “Fleas can pull 160,000 times their own weight and jump 150 times their own length.”

  Several people looked at her with reddened faces and swollen eyes. She shrugged.

  “Look, everything’s going to be okay. They’re not going to hurt us. It’s those two that the fleas want,” she said, pointing to John and Bill.

  Half the crowd screamed when Bill’s body was tossed into the air like a weightless astronaut and caught upside down by the parasite on the high wire. The rope by Bill’s side crashed to the ground with a thud, inches from John.

  Jen saw the horror on his face.

  The parasite released its hold on Bill. He plummeted to the ground at breakneck speed, screaming the entire way. He landed on his head with a loud crack that everyone felt. His body convulsed in spasms for several seconds before collapsing into a limp, tangled mess.

  Serves you right, dillweed.

  Several people around her vomited, but everyone continued to watch. She imagined this is how things were back in the days of the gladiators. People would watch and cheer as others died gruesome deaths, but she was the only one cheering this time.

  John stood still and wept. The murderous parasite jumped down from the high wire and appeared in front of him. The other parasites backed off, like th
ey were granting a personal vendetta. John held out his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. Then his face turned white.

  Recognition set in.

  “Dexter?” John shot one of his hands to the ground and grabbed the rope Bill had been carrying.

  What’s he going to do with that?

  Dexter’s steel body seemed to move forward, but it happened so fast no one knew for sure. Until blood sprayed from the flea man like a fire hydrant. His arm was gone.

  He screamed and ran toward the audience. “Help me!”

  “Keep him back!” someone shouted.

  “He’ll get us all killed!” another person yelled.

  People hurled beer cans and shoes at the man. Anything to keep him back. “Stay away from us! You’re cursed!”

  “Someone help me! Please!” John fell to his knees, screaming, crying, pleading. He was covered in blood.

  Die, John, die.

  Jen glanced at the exits and noticed the parasites were no longer there. People stood and looked at each other with mouths agape, then blasted out of the tent in droves.

  There, in the center of the ring, she saw the parasites. The enormous fleas brandished their fangs. They dragged John back and formed a circle around him.

  Jen stepped out of the bleachers and looked upon him for the last time.

  “Hey, John!”

  He darted his eyes at her, bloodied, crying. His eyes widened.

  Good, he recognized her.

  “The flea diet consists solely of blood!”

  The Rock Toss

  RICK’S MOM left that morning to visit her sick sister in Aspen. Everyone suspected his aunt wouldn’t be around much longer.

  “I’ll be back in a few days,” his mom had said. “I want to make sure your Aunt Chloe is as comfortable as possible. She doesn’t have anyone else.” She threw her coat on and grabbed an umbrella. “Try not to burn the house down.”

  “Better take the matches with you,” he snickered.

  “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, okay?”

  Rick shrugged. “We’ll see. Tell Aunt Chloe to stay away from the light.”

  She opened her mouth as if to reply, but closed her eyes and sighed before responding. “I wish things were different, Rick. I know the last few years have been hard. Come here.” She wrapped her arms around him.

  He didn’t resist.

  “Stay out of trouble,” she whispered into his ear. “Love you.”

  I love you, too. If he didn’t say it, then nothing bad would happen. His mom was all he had left and he was grateful every day for her. She was the most important person in the world to him. He wanted to tell her all of this. But he couldn’t. Not since his brother Paul died and his father left. He refused. He never wanted to feel that pain again.

  Rick helped his mom out the door and locked it back. He turned the radio on and blasted rock music as loud as possible. He conjured up many possibilities, most involving beer and girls. He settled for smoking cigarettes, skipping school and playing video games.

  Everything was going as planned until his mom called the next night. “I’ll he home sometime tomorrow,” she said. “Aunt Chloe’s doing much better. Miss you.”

  Fan-frickin-tastic. Rick was getting used to his new lifestyle and became horrified at the prospect of leaving it behind. He had half a mind to hitch a ride to Aspen and smother Aunt Chloe in her sleep. Not enough to kill her, per se. Just enough to leave her incapacitated or on a respirator for a while. No, no, not really.

  The twenty bucks his mom had pinned on the refrigerator were already gone. Pizza delivery was expensive — when you had it twice in one day. Rick realized he needed his mom back. Maybe she would make lasagna or a meatloaf. No one could cook like her.

  He left the next morning with his backpack and school clothes on. It’s all about appearance. Rick wandered through acres of woods behind the house until he came across an old overpass. It had been used a few years earlier by some land development company. Cars whizzed by on the interstate below every few seconds.

  Rick sat next to the overpass and pulled the Gameboy out of his backpack. He went to work slaying dragons and rescuing princesses.

  "Hey you!" someone shouted.

  Rick figured it was a truancy officer and threw his hands up in surrender.

  "Hey! You!" with more force.

  Rick turned to see three huge figures walking towards him: the Wilson boys. They were bigger trouble than he was. Donnie, the oldest, had been arrested twice for beating the crap out of his parents. John was thrown out of school for molesting his French teacher. And Billy, well, he never said anything but he was big and ugly.

  Rick held his breath as the three tyrants stood behind him in dirty overalls.

  "This here is our territory," Donnie said, pointing his finger in every direction. He smelled like cat piss.

  "You tryin’ to steal our territory?" John joined in.

  Billy just stared down at him and cracked his knuckles.

  Rick pretended not to hear them and continued to rescue the princess, until the Gameboy was yanked out of his hands and sent sailing over the overpass. He ran to the side of the overpass and watched his life’s work smash into tiny fragments. It had barely missed the back of a Honda.

  “You’re buying me a new one,” he said to Donnie as he walked up to him. Donnie stood a foot taller and was twice Rick’s weight. Rick could take him.

  “You guys hear somethin’?” Donnie asked, looking at his brothers.

  “I think I heard me a crybaby,” John answered.

  Billy nodded in agreement.

  “Listen —” Rick started to say. The next thing he knew he was on his back with a sore jaw.

  “You listen,” Donnie said. “No one ignores me. Hope you’re ready to get your butt kicked.”

  Billy knelt next to Rick. With his huge, freakish hands he lifted Rick to his feet. He held Rick there like a nail about to be pounded.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he muttered. The last thing Rick needed to do was explain to his mom how he got beat up when he was supposed to be at school. “Let’s make a deal.”

  “I don’t make deals,” Donnie said.

  Rick couldn’t catch his breath. These guys were just scary. The thumping against his chest became faster and harder.

  “But whatcha got in mind?”

  Billy gave Rick a disgusted look and loosened his grip.

  He had to make something up, quick. There’s no way he could beat these guys in a fight. He looked around for inspiration. The first things Rick saw were two rocks in front of his feet. They were about the size of his right hand.

  “Um,” he tried to think fast. “Those two rocks. Let’s have a contest.”

  “Them two rocks? Billy, hold him tight. Ain’t got time for this crap.”

  “I bet you like fudge. Fudge packer.” Rick knew those were fighting words no straight bully could back down from. Especially a stupid bully.

  “Heck no. What kinda lame contest we talkin’ ‘bout?” Donnie said, tugging at his hair in frustration.

  “Those two rocks,” Rick said, pointing his chin at them. “Let’s see who can throw one the farthest. If I win, you let me go. If you win, well, you know.” He knew he would lose but figured it would give him the chance to run.

  “Let’s just kick his butt and get outta here,” John said.

  Billy tightened his grip on Rick’s shoulders.

  “No way. We’re doin’ this. Donnie Wilson don’t back down from nothin’!” Donnie spit at Rick’s feet. “Let him go.”

  Billy shoved Rick onto the ground. Rick looked up at him and smiled, making a kissing motion with his lips.

  “Here,” Donnie said, shoving one of the rocks into his hands. “Get ready to lose!”

  John and Billy surrounded Rick on each side when Donnie stepped to the edge of the overpass. There went his escape plan.

  “You sure ‘bout this, Donnie?” John asked, scratching his head.

  “Course I’m
sure!” he answered, scowling.

  “Don’t get nobody killed.”

  “Better them than me,” Rick mumbled. He knew no one was going to die but he had to find a way to keep these idiots from beating the crap out of him.

  “What’d you say?” Donnie asked, squinting his eyes.

  “I said ‘Good luck, buddy.’”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Donnie took two steps back and slung his rock as far as he could over the interstate.

  Rick prepared to throw his rock at the back of Donnie’s head, then watch him plunge to a gruesome death. Rick was about to get his butt kicked anyway…he could take one of the morons out with him. No, not like that. His mom taught him killing was wrong. Darn her.

  “I didn’t see where it landed,” Rick said.

  “Don’t need to,” Donnie chuckled. “My brothers will be the judges.” All three of the morons laughed.

  Rick stepped up to the same area Donnie stood. He was resigned to losing but determined to win. After all, was he not the greatest video game champion ever? He had spent years honing the strength in his wrists, and it all came down to this moment.

  He cocked his arm and threw the rock with all the fury of a tiger.

  Donnie shoved him back onto the ground before he could see how far the rock went.

  “Time to die, loser,” he said.

  Billy stood over Rick, pounding his fists together.

  Tires squealed against the pavement below them as a car spun out of control on the interstate. They all froze for a moment to listen to the event play out.

  John ran over to the edge of the overpass. “What’d you do?” he said, looking back at Rick.

  Donnie and Billy ran over to join him.

  Rick knew this was his only chance to run and he took it. He ran deep into the woods. All he could picture was a car fighting to stay on the pavement as the driver fought to keep control. His mind’s eye saw a large hole in the shattered windshield as the driver steered helplessly to stay alive. Rick could hear the clinking and shredding of metal as the car rolled over and crashed.

  He stopped in the middle of the woods, sat down, wept, watched, waited. No one came. Nothing happened. Rick was unsure of the time because his watch had been in his backpack. If the Wilson boys didn’t turn him in then the cops would find his backpack on the overpass. He couldn’t escape from what happened.