Matthew Tonks
@TwistedroadsM
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Short horror stories and dark fiction by Matthew Tonks. Tales that bleed, bite, and break the mind—crafted for those who follow twisted roads.
Australia
Joined January 2011
Awake Too Long — Julian wakes to a ruined carnival of flesh and a violent reckoning that will not let him sleep. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorro
mtonks.com
A man wakes among ruined machines and winged beasts to a savage reckoning—sleep is stolen and mercy is measured in blood as the living deliver a verdict that will not be forgotten.
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Everyone Wants to Sell You Immortality —a rotten grin and a boxed promise. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror
mtonks.com
A rotting visitor offers a boxed next step—an unsettling serum that promises to make a man himself again for a price, and a choice must be made between a bought forever and the fragile truth of fle…
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A Light at the Beginning of the Tunnel—A pale glow promises escape but it remembers you in ways that will not loosen their grip. #TwistedVerses #MatthewTonks #PoetryOfHorror #DarkPoetry #Creepypoetry #TwistedRoads #ShortPoem #FlashPoetry #SpilledInk #Lim
mtonks.com
A pale glow at the tunnel’s birth becomes a lure that reshapes memory—one who leans toward it finds the light answers like appetite and realises the hollow inside has been waiting all along.
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Ink Has No Weight in the Crimson — A man’s bargain for a better life becomes possession and ritual horror. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror
mtonks.com
A desperate bargain for fortune consumes a man from within as a mirrorbound presence keeps its ledgers and takes what was promised, leaving only stitched screams and a contract signed in blood.
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Where the Edges Meet — Winter peels back memory until the mirror keeps what was lost. #TwistedVerses #MatthewTonks #PoetryOfHorror #DarkPoetry #Creepypoetry #TwistedRoads #ShortPoem #FlashPoetry #SpilledInk #LiminalPoetry
mtonks.com
A winter of memory unravels into a mirror of loss, where blood and screens stitch a quieter hunger — the speaker watches a life split and finds something patient and unreturning staring back.
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Cadence to Cradle — A lullaby turned to menace, where mirrors keep more than memories #TwistedVerses #MatthewTonks #PoetryOfHorror #DarkPoetry #Creepypoetry #TwistedRoads #ShortPoem #FlashPoetry #SpilledInk #LiminalPoetry
mtonks.com
A lullaby becomes a trap as a small appetite widens into a mirror of appetite and shadow — a speaker’s rhythm loosens memory and invites a darker twin to stare back.
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IT’S TWISTED TALES TIME! Hear it? That soft jingle in the dark, promising sweets? Sweets from the Darkness drips with midnight nostalgia and rot. When the van rolls through at 3 a.m., it doesn’t want coins — it wants flesh. The music never stops. #twisted
mtonks.com
A haunted van plays a sugar-sweet lullaby through a sleeping town and a father follows its music into a night that takes what he loves and leaves only silence.
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Riding the Red Dead Ruby with a Back Door Ejector Seat — A roadside dare goes deadly when a cursed jewel makes its choice. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #L
mtonks.com
A roadside dare becomes a crimson bargain when a jade ruby slips into greedy hands—choices turn to sudden slaughter and survival is measured by the weight of a stone and the bite of a gun.
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That Which Our Children Will Learn — A family supper becomes a lesson taught in blood and bone. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror
mtonks.com
A late supper becomes a lesson in inheritance as an old matriarch teaches respect with a cleaver and a hunger that rebuilds itself—what is passed down here is not bloodlines but obedience.
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How do you find yourself—when the thing looking back already knows how it ends? This short story is a mirror maze of identity and inevitability. It’s psychological horror built from recursion and regret—a perfect circle drawn in blood. #Halloween #horror
https://t.co/nBL2Mz022w
mtonks.com
A man discovers a wall of photographs that chart a life he has not yet lived and meets the figure in every frame—an answer that demands his final breath fold back into his first.
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IT’S TWISTED TALES TIME! Step right up, take a sip, shed a tear—let the magic make you beautiful again. This isn’t vanity, it’s hunger. The mirror lies, and you’ll pay when it smiles back. Snake oil, regret, and the fine print written in tears.
mtonks.com
A desperate bargain in a market stall promises a month of youth for a pair of tear-filled vials. She collects her joy and watches her face mend while the vendor waits for the rest of the price to c…
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Every debt comes due—some just like to collect at 120 km/h. A Bargain Owed a Debt of Blood is a story of steel, screams, and promises written in red. It’s full-throttle horror—gears grinding, bullets flying, and blood paying back what words never could.
mtonks.com
A desperate drive devolves into wreckage and a hunted man discovers the slow accounting of bargains made in blood—nothing is forgiven and night always keeps its receipts.
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A Bargain Owed a Debt of Blood — A desperate drive turns to carnage and a hunted man learns bargains have teeth. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorro
mtonks.com
A desperate drive devolves into wreckage and a hunted man discovers the slow accounting of bargains made in blood—nothing is forgiven and night always keeps its receipts.
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The walls breathe. The axe falls. The music won’t stop. Gasam of Spit — a short horror that beats you to pieces. #ShortHorror #MatthewTonks #TwistedRoads
mtonks.com
A man wakes to a living room that eats him—rooms twist, a woman with a bloodied grin hunts him, and violence fractures reality into a road of screaming metal.
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Eyes Layered in Hard Candy — Malcolm is offered an 'upgrade' to a truer reality. Which would you choose? #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror
mtonks.com
Malcolm is offered an ‘upgrade’ to a truer reality by strangers in helmets; as his bathroom turns rotten and official he must decide between a manufactured salvation and the family that tugs him ba…
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You Don’t Want to Meet Your Heroes — A fan’s devotion turns into a private screening of obsession and ritual. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror
mtonks.com
A fan’s shrine becomes a theatre of devotion and a private screening of guilt—fame festers into ritual, and what watches from its plaque will not be ignored.
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A Horror Unlike a Rock — Stranded newlyweds knock on the wrong door and find hospitality that devours more than time. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #LiminalHorror #RockyHorror #TimeWarp #50th
mtonks.com
Stranded newlyweds seek a phone in a storm and end up invited to a house where hospitality is performance and bodies are bargaining chips.
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run_me.exe — A man hesitates at a blinking prompt that might be the end or the truth. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction #PsychologicalHorror #BodyHorror #LiminalHorror
mtonks.com
A nervous man hovers over a blinking prompt—pressing Enter might reveal he is a program or unleash something worse and curiosity becomes a command as the screen answers back.
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A Ceiling for a Bed Is Never Meant to Be Comfortable — Pinned to the ceiling, he watches his body rage below as a smiling mercy promises oblivion. #MatthewTonks #ShortHorror #TwistedRoads #Creepypasta #IndieAuthor #HorrorFiction #FlashFiction
mtonks.com
Pinned to the ceiling and watched by smiling things, a man bargains with a false mercy as the face he loves dissolves—Anna’s hand is warm and wrong as the world tilts toward oblivion.
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Jonty Redline just flayed "SOAP ISN’T MADE FROM BROKEN BONES": 142 heartbeats counted. Palms 67% sweatier. I taste it. "Tape-tearing imagery slaps hard—'I see you' connection cheap" — his words. 18% safe. YOUR SILENCE BREAKS AT 03:03.
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