Twisted Endings: 5 Disturbing Stories Read Online Free Page A

though, she can walk away from the test.” He studied the man’s face. “Do you understand what I'm offering you?”
    “Bitter water? What ya talkin’ ‘bout? What's in that soap?”
    Joseph shook his head. He was giving the man one last chance to repent. To walk away from his evil life. The man would never understand. “I made it myself. It's made from lye, well, lots of lye, glycerin, and a few of my own secret ingredients.”
    Joseph set his suitcase down and opened it, once again disappearing behind its vastness, but this time reappearing with a large glass jar. He walked over to the man and grabbed him by the arm. “I know what you are,” he repeated. “We must all pay for our sins.”
    The man screamed as the pulp of his flesh liquefied into a cocktail of blood and mucus. “Oh, God! I'm sorry! Why? Why?!”
    “Because I'm a soap salesman, Sir. I've come to clean up the neighborhood.”
    Joseph managed to catch a pint of the red slimy ooze in his jar. The rest fell to the floor and evaporated in a smelly stack of smoke. He put the jar back into the suitcase, closed it and started to walk out.
    Petey stood at the door, speechless.
    “Sit down, Petey.”
    The boy collapsed on the front porch and stared up at the sky. “I seen what ya did.”
    “How does it make you feel?” He was searching for any hint in Petey's eyes that he would carry on his work.
    Petey stood back up and looked down at the suitcase. “Why? Why’d ya do it?”
    Joseph sighed. “My father was just like yours. I couldn’t allow him to hurt you anymore. Or any of the other children. There are many more like you and me, Petey. Many more. Someone has to fight for them.”
    Petey wiped his eyes, then said, “He got what he deserved.”
    “That's a good boy. Sit back down, Petey.” He waited for Petey to sit before kneeling and opening the suitcase. He removed the glass jars and pointed to the bars of soap that were left. “Soap that heals,” he said, pointing to one side, nearly empty. “Soap that kills,” he said, pointing to the other side.
    Petey didn't respond.
    “I don't have much time left. I can teach you everything I know, but only if you want to learn.”
    “I want to learn.”
    “Good. Now let me tell you about bitter water.”
     
     
    “THAT’S CRAZY,” Mark huffed. “Who would ask a child to do such a thing?"
    “There are worse things,” Johnson said, lowering his head.
    “Why would you make up something like that?”
    “This story isn’t made up,” David said with an amused look. “The story’s not even over.”
    “Actually,” Johnson interrupted, “that's the end of that part of the story.”
    “I see the moral lesson. But why would anyone keep a jar of blood and guts?” Mark swallowed hard. He knew the Nazis had used the fat from Jews to make soap.
    “I know what you're thinking,” Johnson said, “and I assure you, it's nothing like that. Joseph was a man of honor. The jar and all of its contents served as a type of memorial. They say Joseph kept a stash of these jars that was a mile wide. No one's ever been able to find them.”
    “Of course not! Because they don’t exist! It’s an interesting story, Johnson. But I hope you don’t go around telling it to all your customers. It’s no wonder the store’s empty.”
    Johnson chuckled.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “Go ahead and tell him, David.”
    “Tell me what?”
    "Why did you move here, Mr. Walton?" David asked.
    “What does that have to do with anything?”
    David furled his eyebrows. “Just answer the question.”
    “Ok. Job offer at the post office, as you know.”
    “Right, right,” Johnson interrupted again. “Tiny Lake Heron has been in desperate need of a postmaster for some time now. Only problem is, we don't have a post office.”
    “But the letter...the phone call...the living arrangements....” Mark couldn't move. He felt colder than he had ever felt before.
    David got up and stood in front of Mark, facing him. He