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About Varied / Hobbyist Member TomMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
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Welcome to my story. Well, I hope it was a story. I'm still not quite sure myself... People called me Anea Bell. But not anymore. Not after what happened.

Near where I lived was a small forest that always bloomed early but dropped its beautiful crimson leaves early. Many nightmares were set in this forest, from young to old in this village. The tight entrance was almost too fairy tale for it to be believable: A large arch was created by two slender trees that leaned towards each other, drawn by gravitational attraction. A fine yet rugged path lead further into the groggy forest. It was one of those mysterious, creepy evenings where the fog was thick and creatures were roaming. A small whimpering resonated from within... I had the primal urge to run in and investigate, save the poor little thing. But those nightmares recently... I know I needed to go in. I just chose to go slowly. You know, in case I might trip?

As I creeped in, I had the distinct feeling that I was being watched from afar. A bird fluttered in the distance. Just owls. Perched on the highest branches, looking over me. A guardian angel. Waiting to save me from whatever evil being lurks in the deepest point of the woods. Crunch. A single crunch. I spun on the spot, just like a record.
Emptiness. Of course. It was nothing more than a squirrel. But it was enough to set me off. I wanted to get out, leave the small weeping creature to suffer. To die. My own skin was more important. I decided to - hurriedly - walk back the way I came... Well, I tried. The path I left had been blown away by the strong winds pounding my face every few moments.
I had no idea where I was going. I just hoped I was alone.

I spun around, hopelessly. A small reflection caught my eye in the distance. It sat between a small shrub, which enticed me forwards. I crept, as silent a mouse, through a small opening. A harsh, foul smell filled me with disgust. I came across a large, open area. Several stones were positioned in the center of this area, forming a small circle. Each stone was a different colour. No two stones were the same colour… they pulled me forward. I had to look at these masterpieces of art. They couldn’t be natural. Some artistic genius had to have made these, surely? I sneaked into the center of the circle, where a small rock sat. I felt the urge to touch it. It was so unique, I wanted it. I wanted to show it to the world: I wanted to share it. The world needed to see this beautiful pattern, a light blue with perfect cream spots. Maybe someone had done this before, but it felt so… special. I crouched down beside it, slowly, just to be sure. I looked around before reaching out to grab it. A small glint caught my eye once more. So that’s what it was. A beautiful butterfly was slowly gliding around. Something made me get up and head towards it. I forgot about the rock for a moment. The butterfly was shining… as if it had been made of ice. It started to fly towards me. I was seduced by it’s beautiful looks and reached out for it to land on my pale hand.

It did. And as soon as it did, it melted into a small puddle of water. I stared into the puddle confounded. I didn’t know what to do.

I felt a calming, warm glow on my back, leading me to turn around. Nothing. Just the rock. I sighed and went to finally pick it up. The melted butterfly reminded me on how short life could be. I leaned over the rock and placed my hand on it.
It fell straight through. It felt liquid. I swished my hand around, confused by the new experience. However, this only lasted for a moment until a textureless thing grabbed my soft hand. It wouldn’t let go. I started to panic, get violent: I tried yanking my hand out, but nothing worked. It had gripped me too well. It started to pull me in. I knew I wasn’t going to survive this.

In my final moments, I looked around for anything. Vines had appeared around me, but they were too weak to assist me in my peril. Moss gripped the rocks around me, embossing them. It pulled once more. I went in.


I came to. I sat up, pushing my fragile body up with my hands: The dirt felt rough, harsh on my soft skin. I looked around, hoping to find someone - something - that could help me. How long had I been out? But there was nothing. I half expected it. Death had surrounded me. Grass was paling, a green that blended into the bleak surroundings. The small rocks had become grey, cracked around me. The trees looked sinister, creating horrific shadows against the ground. Nothing was living. The sky was grim, miserable, a dark cloud has surrounded the forest. It was taking over. The battle was lost.

But something was there. I could feel it. The feeling that two eyes are following you, no matter what you do. Just there, in the darkness, waiting to pounce on you and devour your flesh.

I decided to move. I needed to find a way out of here. I jumped up, forgetting the patience of before and ran. I just ran. South? Or was it North? I don’t know. A lone path, deserted, unused, lead me out of the pit. I climbed up the path, not taking a moment to breathe or think, until I reached a small outcrop surrounded by a thin wire fence. It lead high - too high for me, being a short person - meaning I had to climb it. I placed my right foot on a gap and tried to put my weight onto the fence. But the wire was so fine, it quickly drew a fine stream of crimson liquid. My precious blood. I pulled back and started to suck on my bleeding thumb.

I needed to find an opening to the fence. Someone must have been here before and that someone must of escaped. Surely? I decided to follow back down, tracing the fence with my eyes, until I realised I had walked back to the same outcrop I had started with. I believed it was the same, it looked so familiar. There was no escape. I was stuck here. I hoped this was just a nightmare. I was going to wake up soon, I know it.

I felt scared. No word could truly convey my emotion. I sat down, and started to sob. Minutes passed; tears fell from my face. Until I looked up and in the distance, I saw a fine cream object in the difference. It looked like a note. I wiped my drying tears on my sleeve and got up. I was determined to get this note. I needed to get this note. As I crept towards it, expecting a trap, I could make out the words written on the note. A perfect piece of penmanship.

One of Eight. Only seven more to go.

Did this mean that there were seven more notes? Would they have more information? Would they tell me to escape? I could only imagine what kind of messed up dream this would be. Or was it a cruel game? I needed to find out. These notes needed to be found.

I walked away from the note. I dared not touch it. The paper looked so beautiful yet so valuable. I walked onwards, back into the center of the forest, where I thought I had come. I struggled through some long, thick vines (these would have been handy earlier) before arriving at a small, homely building. Made of red bricks with a pale pink cement, it looked out of place - but so loving at the same time. I supposed I should enter, as the building wouldn’t be here otherwise. I walked up to the antediluvian door and knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.


I pushed lightly on the door. It squeaked open. I placed a foot in and then the next. It felt… stale. Empty. Deserted. I looked around - for anything.  Another note was placed under a flaking, dirty cup. It featured a simple sentence.

“Always Watching. No eyes.”

I felt a draught on the back of my neck. I turned quickly. Nothing.

I walked over to the small, perfectly constructed window. In the distance, a tall black figure stood next to a shrub. I tried to focus, but it would only get blurrier. A small beacon of light emitted from the top of the figure. Could it be a means of escape? Or is it a hunter? Trying to draw me in to my death? I didn’t want to take the chance. I barged into the door and ran as far and hard as I could.

I had run. For minutes. Hours. Days. I just kept going. No stopping. Until now. A small stump lie near a small collection of daisies, much past their prime. I needed to take my breathe. I needed to drink. I needed food. But there was none.

A cold, harsh wind brushed behind me, cooling me. But it did more than that. It symbolised that something was behind me. I knew it was too late to move. It was too late to live. A cold touch stroked across the rear of my neck… it was smooth, but not soft. It lead round, I closed my eyes. I dared not look. It crept, silently, in front of me. I tried not to look.

I tried.

I opened my eyes. A tall, slender body stood in front of me. I slowly looked up. It was now. A faceless being. Just there. Standing. It’s hand had explored my body. But now it was reaching my forehead. Will it hurt me? Am I the prey for this predator? The cold touch finally reached it’s final point.

That was the last sensation I felt. Coldness. Sadness. Forlorn hope.

It was over.
Black Death
A short story based around the idea of Slender
:iconmissatessatessy: asked me to add to her original story <da:thumb id="488278824"> and improve it a bit (which was good, since I needed to write)
Lucy. Yes, that was her name. She wrote quickly, finely, leaving her mark on the old, weathered wall. Smiling. Happy. Unaware. Crystal white flakes of hope fell from the silver grey sky which settled on her wispy, blonde hair. A muffled clang came from behind. Lucy jumped, alarmed. A strong breeze ruffled her fine hair, but quickly vanished. In the distance, opposite the ancient wall sat a shop. No-one had seen anyone enter; no-one had seen anyone leave. A small doll, covered in detailed, fine wispy blonde hair sat staring with its pale baby-blue eyes. Lucy walked with grace through the idyllic yet harsh snow, towards the rusty exterior of the shop. She placed her head on the ice-cold window and instantly beamed, wanting the item that she could see. She skipped with the elegance of a dancer over to the shop’s antediluvian door and attempted to enter the shop. Clunk. Creeeak. The door refused to open. Alas for poor Lucy, the door did not open. Upset, the thwarted Lucy stomped away, leaving deep footprints in the unspoiled snow, which gracefully covered the path.
I sat there. Motionless… powerless… I had been trapped here many years by the enigmatic shop. I still did not know if the shop was inhabited by anything but us dolls. Every time an innocent, pure child entered the shop to grab that vile doll that looked just like them, they were brutally sucked into that hard shell.
I want to escape. To be free.
Oh no… not another… Please! No! Don’t! It’s not what you think! Oh please don’t reach for the doll! Let us out! Please, I’m begging you… don’t touch it… It’s what we did… It still makes me want to cry every time a child comes into this shop. Sigh. She has become one of us, stark and emotionless. Why are we here? I was only curious. I didn’t deserve any of this. I should be outside, frolicking with my friends… not ensnared in here.
Sigh. If only I could nudge my fragile body towards the edge of this precarious shelf, I could fall, gracefully, almost like a swan, towards the cold, dark unbreakable floor. My soul could escape this eternal damnation. Endlessly free. But I would cease to exist. This hard shell may be my prison, but deprived of it… I am nothing. Wait! The girl left the door open! The strong midwinters wind…

Smash. I turned to see the remains of a fragile, porcelain doll. I noticed that the door hadn’t closed, as a small doll on a tricycle rode, frantically towards the small gap in the decaying door of the shop. As I reached to close the door, it slammed, causing each and every doll to shake, disturbing the gentle peace of the shop. The doll continued downwards, crashing into the rotting wood… almost trying to escape?

I had seen a small lass enter the shop – this shop – and decided to see if she was all right. I had heard funny, dodgy things about this shop – all us adults had. I saw a doll that looked just like me in the shop window. I thought it was suspicious, so I entered the unlocked shop. I looked around – the doll that was identical to me had vanished… aha! There it was!
It was then I realised that every single beady eye was following me from around the room. I walked closer, going eye to eye against these mechanical dolls. I decided it was time to leave… I headed towards the door – I heard a bolting sound and the door was locked. I was trapped.
A small fiction piece I wrote (featuring multiple point of views), inspired by the short film Alma:
So I was recently introduced to Twine ( which can make great interactive stories, and since I needed to adapt my story to become a text-based adventure, I started there.

Why not have a play? 2ec4046c2026842ac6653b4f433ac6…

(Note: You might die a lot.)
  • Mood: Relief
  • Listening to: Gran Turismo 6's OST (It's great!)
  • Reading: All of reddit
  • Playing: Universe Sandbox (Gotta fire those teapots)

To the few people who consider me to be their friend:
I admit it. I can be an idiot. I'll often appear to be a complete and utter cock or never agree with anything you say. I constantly seem to hate on things you like, or comment on everything in a way that irritates you.

I'm sorry.
If I comment on something that you like, but do it in a negative way (for example, >windows 8), I'm doing it in a friendly way, to poke at you. I don't actually hate on it (unless it's Apple, damn you Apple) - I'm being friendly. Okay, I can understand that through text, it's a lot harder to get the actual meaning across. It's meant to be a jibe (Google thinks that's a sailing term, but… has it - a friendly insult) and something not to be taken seriously. 

I can be serious. But when I'm serious, you usually know. But there's a lot of times you take me serious when I'm just kidding around and being friendly. I know I'm hardly the most friendly of people, but I never hurt with intention. I hate doing that. I hate being angry. I hate causing pain.

This has lead to many fallings out in the past. I never remembered to explain it. But here it is, after a night of hardly sleeping (or was it hard sleeping?) and constantly thinking.

There have been times where I have completely failed as a friend. Every single time, it's my fault. It's always my fault. Very rarely is it due to someone else. I ask of this: Please forgive me. There are times, I'm sure of it, when people do enjoy my company... and I can only hope those times outweigh the negative effects I have.

Your resident tall person,

  • Mood: Pity
  • Listening to: MMMMMM


MontyBojangles's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United Kingdom
I like space.
I'm just too cynical.
I can bring fun, I can bring pain...
I like to play my hand with debates (Try me).
I've been known to dabble with photography and literature
Apparently, I remind people of Jeremy Clarkson.
I take pride in the fact I will be the most uninteresting person you will talk to.
People always copy my most uncreative of names.
Ad astra per aspera, ad honorem.
2 + 2 = 5
I can neither confirm or deny that I have worked for the NSA.
And I'm afraid I've run out of things to tell you.

Oh, maybe this:
No need to say thanks for the random favourite/watch! I know you love doing it, but I know ;)


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Sanguithar Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
yay thanks for the +watch :3
MontyBojangles Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
My pleasure! Keep up the good work!
Aenea-Jones Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2014  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
:iconlainloveplz: Softness [WP] by Aenea-Jones  :iconlainloveplz:
EvannaVanyaEliska Featured By Owner May 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave~! I really appreciate it! :iconbubblecuteplz: (sorry for the really late thanks...)
Itite-Emakoiji Featured By Owner Sep 29, 2013  Hobbyist Artist
Thanks for the watch, Tom.
I do know you. ^_^ Recognised your 'Geek' picture. ♥
KumoNinjaFoxx Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Ta for the fave! ^^
IzumineKisamine Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Thank you for faving Game Over, I knew you loved me really~
TheNekoApprentice Featured By Owner Jun 3, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Hey Monty~ Guess who? :3
malaladanila Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2013
Many thanks for the favourite, Tom!
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