Dismembered Tales & Entrails Book Four

By Matthew Tonks

You hold in your hands a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know. For scrawled in blood upon the pages are stories twisted thirty-one in all, soaked in the embers of my insanity. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to ponder, five minutes to sing, five minutes to do almost anything. A peasant, a zombie, a robot, a war. A kiss, a witch, a titan, a roar. Mirrored reflections, a funeral or two. Death and division, humanity askew. A belfry of bats, a sea of black cats, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride with me too...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Tonks
• Release date: Mar 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463727300

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

Watch This Space

Dashing through the last of never, was my only regret, he says as he looks up into the camera, his eyes filled with tears.

I opened the doorway, not out of wanting, but out of curiosity. Had I known what would be lasting, I would’ve never opened the god damn thing. he stutters a captured breath in his throat and draws back a nose full of snot and saliva, choking on it violently.

Get a grip Calvin, there is no need to over sell this shit, it just has to be believable.

ARE YOU A FUCKING ACTOR TIMMY? Calvin yells, spit flying from his mouth with every word. DON’T PATRONISE AN ARTIST WHEN THEY ARE CREATING A MASTERPIECE. ILL NOT ONLY SELL THIS SHIT, ILL BECOME A DARLING OF THE WORLD BECAUSE OF IT.

I think you’re overacting mate, in all aspects of this. We’re not selling food to the starving kids in fucking Africa, we’re selling the idea that you stupidly opened a doorway that has started the end days, and then, when they’re all hooked like a hungry fish in water, we strike.

Exactly, I must draw them in with my performance, otherwise none of what we set up later will matter. The depth of their belief is in the hands of me conveying the right emotions, so they fall for the story the way we need them to. Without my ‘overacting’ this story has no depth. So there is no overacting on my behalf, there is only acting, and it’s Oscar wining acting at that.

Timmy laughs, and rolls his eyes in his head, Mate, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re no Bobby De Niro, in fact you’re not even a Brad Pitt. So pull your head in and just follow my direction, it’ll work out better for us in the long run, trust me.

Calvin stands up from the table and thrusts his head in the air proudly. I will not be part of this unless you give me more freedom within my character. The one-dimensional piece of cardboard you have me playing is weak, and anyone watching won’t get drawn into my character at all.

But in the end, it’s not really your characters roll of selling the story, it’s the doorways role, he says as they both turn towards the large void that sits hanging in the centre of the room.

C-C-Can’t yo-yo-you close it now, it gives me the creeps.

Timmy smiles broadly, Don’t be a wet bag, it’s fine. As long as we keep the heart in a safe place, nothing can go wrong.

S-S-Show m-me it ag-again, nervously asks Calvin.

Timmy rolls his eyes in his head again, as he slowly unbuttons his shirt to reveal a large gash that’s cut across his chest and is tied together like a pair of shoes. Ever so carefully he unties the ends until he is able to open the gash, so he can show Calvin the second heart that’s attached to his own, sucking on it like a leech.

A Watched Watch Never Ticks

It was just after twelve when I got back, the house was dark, but nothing out of the ordinary. I wasn’t exactly ready for bed straight away, I knew she would be asleep and in no way interested in my current state. So I went downstairs and locked myself in the guest toilet, so I could deal with the not so little guy in private.

How long was it before you heard the screaming?

Five, maybe ten minutes later. I wasn’t exactly taking note of the time, I was more interested in getting a bit of relief.

"Okay, just an approximation of the time was all I needed. What did you do