The Roundhead: Definitive Edition

By Matthew Tonks

Marty Towns didn’t know the story you’re about to read, a story he believed he had written, would free an ancient evil that was trapped just outside the edge of our reality.
An evil born, without sin, without a soul, that hungers for ours to fuel its one desire, vengeance on he who imprisoned it. As each victim falls, they rise again as the beasts dark herald, diseased by its touch, forced to foretell of its coming to the next who shares its words, the next to feel its cold embrace.
And as the world struggles to survive against the beasts path of destruction, another battle is fought, in-between the words of the story, on another plane of existence, and it will be this battle that will decide who survives.
Will you dare read it? Will you dare share it?
Will you become the next victim of,
The Roundhead?

Definitive Edition Bonus Features
The Original Roundhead Short Story.
The Complete Blog Version Of The Roundhead, Including All Preludes and Poems.
The Dagan – A Bonus Short Story Inspired By The Roundhead.
Fear The Roundhead - A Preview Of The Sequel To The Roundhead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Tonks
• Release date: Oct 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370065264

Matthew Tonks

Together we ride the steed of madness, along a road long foretold. Do not let the dire consequences scare you from this journey, for it is written, so it must be. We traveller. We explorers of otherworldly things. Let us share our providence, so we may all prosper.Hidden in the depths of it all, you will find your utopia, and it will be a beautiful sight to witness.For I may walk beside you, and I may carry your umbrella in the sun, just don’t expect me to dig you up, when the zombie apocalypse comes...

Book preview

"Are you ready? Clarke gives a nervous nod as he swallows a mouthful of dry air. Don’t think too much, okay. Just run out there, grab the drive, get your arse back in here, and jam the fucking thing into the USB port on this laptop, do that, and we end that thing once and for all. He says as he looks sadly into the camera’s lens. This next part, I have to tell you, so you understand why you have to be the one. That thing out there, it’s going to kill you regardless of what you decide to do, simply because you never existed in its version, you never had a role, and because of that, because it doesn’t know, it needs to stop you, it has to, and stopping you from getting that drive, everything ends, not just this fucking story. Now, run!" he yells, Clarke leaps to his feet in surprise, as sweat begins to pour down his brow, over his face and starts soaking into his already sweat-stained shirt, for seconds he hesitates, trying to build up the courage to do what must be done.

"FUCKING GET OUT THERE NOW! He yells, thumping a fist into the desk top. Clarke’s eyes widen, his heart rate jumps, and he runs out of the small room like a man possessed, but quickly, once again, he comes to a complete stop, this time frozen by fear, as Jar's disembowelled body lies at the feet of the beast. He locks eyes with it, the beast, and it's deep, black, endless eyes begin to drag him into its depths. He clenches his teeth together tightly, causing a bolt of mind-numbing pain to shoot up the side of his face as a crown snaps away from his back right molar, desperately he pulls his eyes from the beasts, and comes to rest on the USB drive, in Jar's bloody, dead hand. Frantically he makes a dash for it, which ends with him crashing to the ground in a heap, as he slips in the ever-growing pool of blood that slowly covers the floor. The beast sees its chance, and pounces, lunging towards him. Somehow, through flailing legs and arms, he manages to scramble to his feet and runs desperately back towards the room, the beast scratches and claws its way behind him. He leaps into the room, and grabs the laptop, shoving the USB drive into the port just as the beast clutches him by the leg, he feels the USB drive surge to life, and then, the beast rips him out of the room. He looks back in terror, kicking and screaming, trying to break free of its hold, WHY ISN’T IT OVER?" He screams as the beast dangles him high into the air.

"I say when it’s over," the beast growls as it rips him in two like a wishbone, then, there is silence, and the beast smiles.

I'm so sorry, He whispers, bowing his head as the laptops screen flickers and goes blank…

He runs his tongue around his dry mouth, nervously grabbing a glass that sits on the side of his desk as he places the sheet of paper down, then takes a large mouthful of the liquid. Both bliss and agony overload his sensors, as the vodka burns his throat on its way down he lets out a hiss of satisfaction.

I’ve read a lot.... He stops in his tracks and takes a quick, sharp breath in, attempting to quell the afterburn from the vodka, he hisses again, before pressing his lips together tightly, as he lets out a muffled burp, then thumps his chest like a gorilla declaring its superiority over the rest of its clan. Sorry mate, where was I?

You’ve read a lot?

Right, yeah, I've read a god damn lot of shit you’ve written over the years Marty, but this has gotta be the single, best fucking piece of writing you’ve ever placed on my desk, he says looking over to Marty, who has a broad smile on his face.

See Bernie; I told you it was worth the wait, it's good, right? Marty says, slapping his hands together and pointing a finger at Bernie in excitement.

It’s better than good; it’s wrong, fucked up, pushing the boundaries of good taste to the extreme wrong, now where’s the fucking rest?

It’s coming, he says leaning back in his seat.

Coming? What the fuck do you think this is? I’ve got half an issue ready and waiting for this baby you’ve been gestating, as you call it, now two days before the issue’s due at the printers you tell me it’s coming? So is fucking Christmas, but I ain’t dropping hints for presents now, am I?

You said it yourself; it’s the best piece I’ve ever written, don’t you want the rest to be just as good?

Don’t throw my words back in my face Marty you little prick, just tell me how long you need?

Another few days, four at the most, I wanna get it right, I want the whole thing to mesh perfectly.

He empties the remainder of the glass into his mouth and sucks another quick, desperate breath of air in with it, hoping to dull the burn once again, Two days, that's all you’ve got, you don't have it ready by then I’m gonna run with Jones' story.

Jones? Seriously Bernie? You’d give that hack half an issue? Can’t you push it back a few days? You know it’ll be worth it! Marty says in shock, sitting up in his seat.

He’s got something ready, you don’t, and two days is the best I can do. Templar’s tying my hands Marty, cutting expenses left and right over all his subs. The old man wants us to meet deadlines without fail, a missed deadline is more money, and he doesn’t want to spend any more than he has to, he says pouring himself another glass and filling Marty’s as well. If it were my call, I’d wait, but between me, you and the bottle, they’re getting close to pulling the pin. I went to see the old man yesterday, fucker looks ready to run, he’s got that look, you know, crazy eyes and shit. I can’t push back now, it’s gotta be what it’s gotta be or nothing, Bernie says quickly draining his glass once again.

You’re fuck kidding me?

Wish I was mate, but that’s the feeling I’m getting, Bernie says, as his face falls into a mess of wrinkles, his age showing greatly.

I’ll see what I can do, two days ain’t the sort of time I had in mind, but I’ll do my best, Marty says as he clenches his hands into tight fists.

Bernie lets out a loud, boisterous laugh, Shouldn’t be too hard sport, you’ve got a killer start.

It’s not the start; it’s the end. I just thought jumping to the end at the start of the story gives it a, you know, a sorta fucked up twist, see what’s going to happen before it all really begins, Marty says picking up his glass from the desk. For a few seconds, he looks at the thick water-like liquid, as it crashes against the side of the glass, before emptying its contents into his mouth, then lets the vodka dance around on his tongue, before swishing it around in his mouth and swallowing it down.

Are you sure you’re not being too cerebral for the reader? I mean, we’re no high-end magazine Marty, we’re penny dreadful shite, trying to pull a Stephen King might alienate our core demographic.

Fuck you Bernie, we don’t have, a core demographic, and sure, I know it’s clever, but the way it opens the story up, allows itself to connect straight to the ending makes it more fun. It gives you guts, gore, and a hell of a drawcard to drag you in; you don't like the idea? Marty replies quickly.

I get the whole trying to draw the reader in and shit, and mate, I love that you’re thinking outside our normal slash and fuck policy. It’s just sticking the end at the start, it’s more what they do in the movies, or the big publications, not what we do in shock horror magazines mate, not here anyway, Bernie says, filling their glasses again.

Trust me, you’ll love it and so will the readers, you’ve always said it's all about impact, well this is it, this is balls to the walls impact, I want the reader drawn in straight away, I want them to WANNA know what’s gonna happen next!

Okay, okay, you’ve won me over you little shit so stop trying to sell it to me. Just tell me, Wilkinson, at least has a cover?

You know Gareth; he's working his way there, it'll be ready.

Bernie swivels in his chair and leans back, resting the empty glass on his enormous stomach, Fucking bullshit prima donnas, he says letting out a deep sigh. So tell me, oh great sage of the western world, how are you going to cut in the ending, so it flows with the beginning?

Easy, Marty says as he empties his glass again, slamming it on the desk. I’m gonna smash cut the fucking thing straight into the stories title, then cruise towards the madness at a top-down, sun shining eighty miles an hour, he says with a twisted smile, as the vodka burns down his throat, all the way to his stomach.

#

Marty leans back in his seat as he reads over the words on the screen, and lets out a satisfied release of air as he comes to the end, then presses down on the enter button, seconds later the screen confirms the file is saved to the computer’s hard drive, a jolt of electricity runs up his arm as he grips the back of his neck tightly and squeezes.

Think you know how it ends, wait and see, you piece of shit, he mumbles to himself as he gets up from the seat switching off the screen.

That’s a naughty word Daddy! a voice says softly from the doorway, he casts a quick glance to the door, locking eyes with his youngest daughter Saffron, her face pale, her eyes red and puffy, she yawns, stretching high into the air, a pink stuffed rabbit held tightly by its leg dangles from her hand as she does.

Shouldn’t you be in bed miss? He says with a smile, as he picks her up, giving her a tight cuddle.

I was Daddy, but... She says, burying her head in his chest.

But?

But HE wouldn’t let me sleep, she says softly, closing her eyes.

HE?

The man in my head, the man with the big black eyes, she says, quickly he pulls her away, and he freezes in fear, staring into her now black, lifeless eyes, her mouth, rows upon rows of sharp, decaying teeth, she laughs as he lets her go in shock, sending her crashing to the floor with a thud, where she begins screaming out in pain. He feels his mind crack open like an egg, as a sea of pain rushes through his entire body, then, it is gone, and he realises what he’s done, and panics, jumping to the ground beside her, quickly lifting her into his arms, and off the floor.

I’m so sorry honey, Daddy’s so sorry, I-I-I, I didn’t mean to, I-I-, god, are you okay? He asks frantically, as she continues to cry, quickly getting louder and louder, until the door to his study burst open, and his wife rushes into the room.

What happened? She asks quickly, grabbing Saffron from him.

Daddy dropped me, she says through screams of pain.

Marty! She says scoldingly, giving him a look of disapproval.

I-I-I, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, I swear.

God damn it Marty, be careful for fuck sake, she hisses as she quickly leaves the room with Saffron sobbing in her arms, as they round the corner he catches one last glace of his daughter, and she smiles at him, with a wide, bloody mouth, and black, empty eyes, he takes a nervous step forward, but before he can go any further the phone in his study rings, causing him to jump in fright, a trembling hand quickly grabs the receiver off the hook, and places it against his ear.

H-H-Hello, he says softly, as his eyes bounce around in their sockets as if he’d just fallen from a merry-go-round, he hears a cough on the other end, followed quickly by a loud drawback of phlegm, as Bernie sucks down a mouthful of mucus.

Sorry for the late intrusion, hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time? Bernie says.

N-N-No, no, in fact, it’s perfect timing, I just finished the story, it’s done, with hours to spare, just like you asked.

Look at you, meeting a fucking deadline, for the first time ever, fucking damn shame mate, damn shame, Templar’s shut us down, ain’t no more to be said.

W-W-What?

Templar shut up shop, they’ve declared bankruptcy, old man’s done a runner, hitched a ride to Spain, or Morocco or somewhere out there, took everything mate, she’s over.

You’re fucking kidding me, right? I mean, fuck, I, I fucking finished it Bernie, I fucking did it, now all that’s left is for it to be published. It has to be! He says panicked, his heart thumping violently in his chest.

Mate ain’t nothing I can do, it’s done, over and out, no severance, no nothing, I mean, it goes without saying I’ll put a good word in for ya wherever you end up, but Fear In Fear is done and dusted mate. Don’t take it personally, it’s not anything to do with you, I’ve got a handful of great guys all in the same boat, and you’ll bounce back stronger, you’re a hell of a writer, one of the best to come from around here anyway.

Y-Y-Yeah, thanks Burnie, he says, as he places the receiver back down, collapses in his chair, and proceeds to sit there, in a trance, staring at his reflection in the cold monitor's screen.

Honey, you okay? His wife asks, placing a hand on his shoulder, he swings around violently, letting out a scream of anger as he leaps to his feet and knocks her to the ground.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING! He yells, standing over her menacingly, both hands clenched into fists, she looks at him with fear, scrambling away and to her feet.

What the FUCKS got into you tonight? She yells.

The fucking magazine Clare, they fucking shut it down, I finished the fucking story and they still fucking shut it down! He yells, he takes a nervous step backward as Saffron comes from behind her, out of the darkness, and clutches Clare’s leg.

I’m scared mummy, she says, her face beaming with a wide, bloody smile, he takes another step backward in shock, he can feel the blood drain from his face, as he points a shaking hand towards her.

T-T-T-Tell me yo-yo-you see that! He says to Clare, who looks down at their daughter, quickly picking her up, clutching her tightly.

STOP IT MARTY! YOU’RE SCARING HER AND ME! She yells rushing from the room, leaving him alone, staring into the darkness of the doorway, he feels it run down his leg, the urine, then he hears it, the growling, coming from the darkness, he jumps in fright as the phone rings again, quickly grabbing the receiver.

H-H-Hello?

Marty man, did you hear? the voice says quickly from the other end.

Y-Y-Yeah, Bernie just called me, he says softly.

What the fuck are we gonna do man, I’ve got so many uncashed checks it ridiculous, he said the old man emptied all the accounts and fucked off to some island on the other side of the world, he says quickly.

I-I-I-I, I’ve got no idea man, can, can I call you back later Gareth, I’m sorta in the middle of something, he says, placing the receiver back on its cradle, not even bothering to hear Gareth’s response, again the deep, echoing growl resonates from the darkness

W-W-What do you want? He says softly.

For you to finish the story, a distorted voice says from out of the darkness.

I finished it, just like you asked, just like you wanted, what else is there to do? He asks as tears start welling up in his eyes.

Spread it, share it, let everyone hear my words, let everyone know my story, do what I have asked you, finish it! The voice bellows back.

HOW! He yells, The magazine’s been cancelled, it’s not going to be published, not now! It’ll take months to shop it around, and it’ll have to change, be rewritten, no one will take it with the amount of viol….

IT WILL REMAIN AS IT IS! The voice growls, shaking the room violently.

HOW?

Find a way, the voice says, as his daughter walks out of the darkness, covered in blood, her eyes pools of nothingness. Find a way, or I’ll take all those you love and make them mine, she hisses.

No, no please, not that, please, I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO WHAT YOU ASK! He yells, falling to his knees.

Then, you are of no use to me, she says, collapsing to the floor in a heap, he scrambles to her side, pulling her into his lap, only to find a rotting, maggot-covered corpse in her place, he throws her to the floor and pushes himself into the corner, screaming in fear, as Clare rushes into the room again.

MARTY! She yells grabbing him by the shoulders, slapping him across the face not once but twice, MARTY GET A FUCKING HOLD OF YOURSELF, she screams as she winds up for a third, but he puts his hands up, covering his face.

I’M OKAY! He yells.

What the fucking hell is this all about? The magazine was a shit hole anyway, you’ve always been too good for it, this is the chance you’ve wanted, don’t let it ruin you! She says, thrusting herself to her feet, and looking down at him.

It’s not the magazine, he says softly, staring at her bare feet, his head turns to the side, as he notices a bone beginning to slowly poke out of the side of her foot.

Then what is it? She asks, her voice husky, cold, empty, he feels something drip onto his face, and looks up at her, blood gushes from a tear in her throat, he feels his lower lip tremble, and tears runs down his face.

What’s wrong honey? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost? She says, leaping at him, her hand's, razor-sharp claws.

He screams, launching himself from his desk, his heart pounding a million miles an hour, he searches the dark room for signs of movement, his whole body trembling, Clare? he says softly, but there is no reply, only silence, slowly he makes his way out into the hallway, and again calls Clare’s name, once more, he receives no answer, he ushers through each room, until finally he comes to a sudden stop in the kitchen, as he feels something sticky on the floor and flicks on the light, his eyes grow wide, as he finds himself standing in a puddle of red liquid that has seeped out from underneath the pantry door. Slowly, he reaches out, gripping the handle to the door tightly, then, slowly opens it. He feels the blood drain out of his face as he takes a step backwards in fright, before him, stuffed into the shelves of the panty, are the broken, bloody bodies, of Clare and his two girls, then, Abby starts barking uncontrollably, and he catches a whiff of a rotten, foul smell, and swallows.

#

Wait. Are you flipping back to the end again?

Yeah, it's just a bit of fun, playing around with timelines as shit. I mean, if you go by what really happened, and when I say that, I mean his story, that something otherworld told him to do it, made him write the story and punished him when he failed to get it out there, it’s just so much more fun, than oh, he went batshit crazy and killed all those people, he says, as his eyes dart around the room, while his palm sweats under the phone, and his elbow aches.

Alright, now, don’t take this the wrong way Matt, but, why? I mean it's cool and all, visual, disturbing, but, why start there? Why not have the start with him at the computer? Why add all this extra shit, I liked what you did with it, or what he did with it, I mean, technically he was the one who wrote it, and, it worked, right?

Yeah, of course it did, but it was still his story, not mine, no matter if he’s locked up out in Hicksville, never to see the light of day, he could still challenge it, but not now, not now that I’ve done enough changes to the story, so it’s not his anymore, so it’s mine. Sure, the groundwork is his, but the real stuff, the cleaning, the polishing, it’s all me, Matt says, spinning around in his chair.

Chill dude, I get it, but I still think you should’ve just left the story the way it was.

Why? This way we don’t have to share any of the profits, remember fifty, fifty dude! And anyway, it was so restricted, what I’ve done opens the story up, connects reality, makes it seem more legit, more profitable in other markets, and it needed guts, gore, and some sort of a drawcard to drag you in. You really don't like it? Matt replies quickly.

It's not that I don't like it, it's just, well, I liked how it originally started in your first draft, why have all this shit, why separate Marty from the story?

Because it’s outdated, it’s not what people want today, it's all about impact, and I want the reader drawn in straight away, it's a hook.

Yeah, I guess you're right, I mean, I'm only giving you my opinion, take it or leave it. But, how're you going to lead into the story from here? It needs to get out some way, right? How’re you going to do that?

Come on Garry, you know me better than that, I'm going to smash cut it together, like I always do, and just jump like a mother fucker, displace, replace, and give it an out, give it a total overhaul.

Okay then, let me have it, what happens next?

#

He leans back in his seat as he reads over the words on the screen, and lets out a satisfied release of air as he comes to the end, then presses down on the enter button, scheduling the final post for his Halloween masterpiece, smiling as he switches off the monitor.

Think you know how it ends, wait and se… He stops himself and points to the screen with an uneasy grin. Ah, you nearly got me, almost, he says as he gets up from the seat and stumbles over to a bed, where he collapses almost instantly into a dark, deep, fevered sleep, his body drained to the edge of exhaustion, and in need of a recharge.

Little more than an hour passes when he's woken by his phone violently vibrating in his pocket, he fumbles his way in and pulls it out, dragging it to his ear.

Gareth, it's late, he mumbles into the phone, not even looking at the display screen.

Dude, what the fuck? It’s Garry, were you sleeping?

Shit, yeah, sorry, totally somewhere else.

Well, get out of it man, look, I tried not to, but I couldn't fucking help myself, are you watching? Garry says on the other end of the line.

Watching what?

Don’t give me that shit Matt, we both know what I’m fucking talking about, the blog man, the fucking blog! It’s gone crazy, just like in the fucking story!

R-R-Really? Matt says as he slowly sits up on the side of the bed, rubbing his eyes.

It’s gone motherfucking viral, world FUCKING wide. You’ve gotta see it Matt, people are sharing it thousands at a time. I can’t believe it, I can’t, but it’s happening, it’s really fucking happening! Garry says quickly, almost tripping over his own words.

Calm down man, I can hardly understand you, give me a moment to wake up, He says, stumbling towards his desk and switching the monitor back on, somehow managing to drop the phone in the process. His jaw falls open, and his eyes widen as he stares at the screen, watching notifications flash up, one, after the other. His heart begins to beat erratically in his chest, and his eyes dance, as the screen strobes violently, like a light show at an all-night rave. He shakes his head, pulling himself back into reality, instantly realising the phone is no longer in his hands, he peers into the nothingness of the floor below, searching for it. His eyes take several moments to adjust to the darkness, but once they have, it only takes seconds to see the phones dull light, all the while, he can still clearly hear Garry talking, who is mid-sentence when he finally puts the phone back to his ear.

.... you hear me Matt? Or did you really just drop the fucking phone like Marty does in the story? Does me saying this, mean you’ve just picked it up? I really should've reread it all before I called, I didn’t realize we were going to act it out, Garry says.

A smile grows on Matt’s face, and he can feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, as he begins nervously tapping his foot on the ground. I fucking knew it; I fucking knew it was going to be awesome.

Awesome, man it’s fucking gold, it’s been shared millions of times, over every social media platform you can think of, by just about everyone, who’s anyone, and more who are no ones. You did it man; we fucking cracked the big time! I mean, to be honest, I had my doubts, I thought maybe, maybe we’d get some traffic, you know like the preludes, maybe a little bit more, but it’s gone insane! But it’s not just the story dude, my sites exploded as well, I’m getting traffic moving through and not just to like the portraits, but they’re buying stuff too, they’re fucking buying anything connected to the story, all my original prints, it’s like they can’t resist! He says