The void...it has kept me for so long. It seemed I grew accustomed to its warmth that enveloped me. To step out seemed almost...scary. Yes, I would admit it. I was scared. Wouldn't you fear the light if you knew darkness for as long as I? When that pinprick appeared in the distance I wanted to run, but it seemed deep down in my soul I yearned for it as I moved toward it.

Then there it was, the forest in all its wonder. The void was different. I was weightless there and things did not move so dizzyingly fast. My legs stumbled beneath me, and my muscles did all they could to hold me up. Even my flayed skull felt heavy on my neck. It was a wonder I did not appear a deer ensnared by a spell gone horribly wrong.

It took some time to orient myself, though the way the world moved in my eyes made my stomach ill. Death was more welcome than my churning stomach. Finally getting my feet moving fairly well beneath me I headed to the pond to soak my world weary body. Perhaps I was not meant for this world anymore...

Then I heard the snap of a twig and my body clenched tight to twist my head and ears about. If some predator was upon me, they would find out that I could still bit harder than they. Dreaming of being the meanest birch tree in the forest only was thwarted by the fact I could not become the said tree!

But it was nothing after me, but my kind. My. Kind...

It had been so long, and even in my longing to be alone I found a longing to be with them now and again. In the void there are no deer. There is nothing. Just me and my memories.

Stepping carefully through the brush I found myself greeted by a rather bouncy deer, and I could not help but want to join in. I grudgingly admit I was a terrible jumper, and my social skills were less than stellar, but it seemed to make the quality of time together no less. It also did not seem to make other deer turn away.

I have not always walked alone. There was once a time I knew the joy of company and of love, but as my days pass me by I wonder if it was all but a dream. This world could do that to you, drifting about inner desires you wish to share with no other soul before everyone to be mocked. It is because of that I have withdrawn farther into myself, each beat of my heart pounding it deeper and deeper into the caverns to never be found again. Has it been tucked so far away I will forget everything it brought to me? Maybe it is all just a dream for each time I awaken I find myself sifting into the coldness I know best.

Dare I even wake from the depths of darkness to feel a coldness that you can only feel within? Dare I even open an eye into the world that contains such a deep forceful hurt upon the heart? It is as if the gods have not made me feel enough of it. Where I feel an ounce of joy there is a ton of sorrow awaiting me. Why must it all fall upon my shoulders? Have I not done enough to take back the past? Whatever it must be, I sorely wish that I could make this sickening feeling stop.

It seemed to be a day of punishment, and I should have known when I first saw the dew accumulating on the statue beside me. Looking out into the great expanse of the world I found the fog was pouring in, great clouds of it silently leaving remainders of great foot prints in the air. Such weather I was welcoming to, as I could disappear and move as a shadow amongst the trees. As a shadow I went, my voice the only thing to announce I was there. I could hear replied off in the distance, though the change in sound from the weather threw off my senses.

Buffoons. Fighting because we can buffoons. Perhaps buffoon was a misnomer for balloon, as you must be an airhead to do such a thing. That is how I see it. Save your energy for the real enemy, those who hold so much power. Again I chant my word against the fawns upon the world, as I seem to be the only one who sees what lies beneath their cold beady eyes. Do not look to long in them, as you will soon find yourself amongst more.

I awoke again from the eternal darkness some ways away from my friend the idol where I normally fade into sleep. I was in the other place of solace in this wood where birch trees grew to great heights and little delicate flowers where just high enough to tickle your nose. Sitting there a moment I pondered where to go, though I was drawn back to my place of comfort and loneliness. Instead my feet carried me to the pond, its reflection soulless and empty upon arrival. Such odd healing waters, washing away thirst and your identity all at once. One foul step and you tumbled in to be swallowed up.

Today was not a day of drinking, however, and I could hear echoes of activity through the woods. It was a special echo, one that denoted that it came from the old ruins. Such echoes had a dry and sharp ring to it, often being as harsh upon the ears as a fawn's cry. It seemed in my absence my home had become more populated and welcoming. I would have to put on my mean birch tree face to fix it. So my feet drew me forward with a heavy snort billowing from my nostrils. If I was to sleep peacefully in the void, I was to ensure that all were driven away.

That was when I came upon the balloon buffoons fighting amongst themselves like children, and over what? I never did bother to find out. Knowing that they would drive themselves away in their own foolishness. Buffoons. Something caught the corner of my eye, a flash of green much to bright for the forest.

I was thinking of doing paid commissions when summer starts (so quite some time away.) Would anyone be interested if I did this?

Second question to those already established with coms, how would you suggest getting your name out there in order to get them in? DA is clearly not working. Also, how would you suggest pricing?

If anyone is unfamiliar with my works, you may look here - http://ahundredwingedwishes.deviantart.com/

It is here where we are born, in the mists of the wood. The air is thick, heavy, and visions are blurred. All around us our shadows, enigmas who wrap around their newest affectionately. In the distance the sounds of water crashing into an ancient creek bed can be heard, ears afloat to all that they can capture. However, it is that sound that becomes the memorable tune that reminds us that we could just as easily been drowned beneath its waters. Though we never do drown, do we? All these forces keep us away from any death. Even in the depths of the darkness we succumb to as we slumber we live, never knowing why the flames never snuff out.

I knew such a birth for a moment. I awoke to strange sensations, sensations I knew when I first experienced life as one of them, but today I was not young. My legs were stout and my antlers long. I could feel the magic grasp onto me, always making this place aware of my presence. Things were not the same, though. My antlers no longer flickered with the flames of candles, my face no longer was hidden by the thickened callous of a skull, and my pelt could blow in the breeze as the wind whipped between the trees. Things were not right, and I was panicked.

With each leap I tried to get away from this strange body, and each time I fell with my hooves sinking deeper into the ground to remind me that escape was not so easy. It was through a shake of my head as I fought that I caught the glimmer of an ethereal stone. I could hear its trickle, and I remembered such sounds meaning water. Perhaps it was the solution to changing me back. As I crept forward I found the waters shallow, too shallow to throw myself into. As I looked down into it, I could see reflections of the sky…and of myself. It was the image of a sickening creature, one I had chosen to forget. In that reflection I was nothing.

As I returned to my idol, the poppy flowers brushing across my body, tickling my nose, touching my soul, I realize that the smell of this world is different from before. My eyes have opened to a place I barely remember, a place where scarcity has grown into a plentiful bounty. Fawns have become deer, and deer have become older deer. I have become older. As I stare out at the horizon I realize that there is one thing that has not changed. The view ahead of me is still lonely, still cold. To find warmth in this place is hard, and I am lucky to have found it in the idol. I curl around it like a cat curls by the fire, finding comfort in what never changes or goes away. It will always be here for me, and I for it.


As I looked to the empty horizon, I found my gaze shifting, changing away from the distances they were so used to focusing on. A world up close to me became clear, the fuzzy blobs of colors forming into trees, animals, and one other deer. I had been asleep in the dark world for so long that I had forgotten the contact of others. My approach was awkward, legs fumbling and hooves clicking as they overreached. My mask that always felt to firmly placed on felt as if it were slipping. The blurry background spun around me, making my path like that of an erratic bee. Then, like a drop upon water, my world was interrupted and all fell clear. I bowed, head tilted in a wonder for this deer. Dare it accept that which still smells like the stench of darkness?

My forest is quiet, the lift of the birds taking them far away from these lands to those far to the south. Very little magic exists in my realm, my only will being to avoid those who I see, yet pray they come. What is it that pulls me to them so? Has my heart been so heavy and so void of anything but the empty echoes of its own voice that it longs for something to reply back? I do not want them, but I do, and it is a pull that leaves me alone. It is a wonder that I ever leave the darkness, for it welcomes me like an old friend. It gives me a home and lets me sleep without a disturbance.

Yet it holds me back, for I never want to leave it.

With the gift of the gods’ ivory twisted upon my face I see only sadness and pain. No matter what mask it is, I feel misery and sadness, but this mask turns it into something. It forces it all into an outlet, it bares its teeth to all. It judges no one…save for the single greatest evil this forest has ever faced, the fawn. Little blittering, mooing spotted abominations! They are like a plague. They are immune to intelligence. No amount of hissing or barely missing them with a hoof gets the point across. I could wear their skulls upon my antlers, and all they would do was leap upon me like flames in a forest fire and try to reach the top. I am NOT a plaything.

Even worse, they congregate. They are like little stupid amoebas that can change pretty colors when an adult deer tries its best to drive the evil away with magic. Oh, good, you made it purple! The color of disease! That alone is proof that they must be driven from the forest. I have already been scouring for sacrificial deer for them to follow and cling to…and the only deer worthy of hurling off a cliff is them.

Is it sad I want to kill the only thing in the forest that gives me the time of day?

Do you feel it? That which is born in the depths of the ruins comes for you, awaiting your demise. ‘Come to the graves’ it calls, cackling as you listen and come without second question. Little deer, do you not understand what lies waiting beside the ruins? Do you not see he who sits alone? Beware, beware…It is a deer with a heart that cannot even be lit by the gods. Often there are glimmers of hope, but those are nothing more than a silly façade for his prey.

There is no joy in his leaps, there is no sincerity in his bows, there is no meaning behind his existence. Yet here he stays as he was created, always staring off into the empty abyss around him. Like a shadow he is seen, nothing more than a whisp of memory to a few.

Haunting eyes lurk at the edges of groups, longing and never wanting to join in. That is where they can catch him, that is where he is most vulnerable.

For but a few moments he catches glimpses of the world, only to fade back into darkness. That is all what embraces him, all that welcomes him. Yet in the darkness, there is only he…

I have journeyed long and far. My hooves beat below me with each throbbing beat of pain that runs through them. My heart runs cold, bare with no thought left within them. My travels were long, weary, tiring. But at the same time it made me long and love my home even more than I did before.

Never before had I wanted to lie beside my statue, to nuzzle my beloved, to even sniff a fawn. My mind was wild with so many thoughts, yet it seemed so empty. It was so bent on focusing on moving a simple leg that it only made time in the spare moments when my feet were frozen between steps in time.

I could barely recall my travels to the statue when I returned, but for some reason I am able to recall them now. Like a river to a dam, it floods up and crashes against my strong walls, causing me to force it all back every time. But still, even as I sit in the dark abyss I can feel them overflowing and rushing forward to be told.

As I ran through the open fields, I remember feeling so free. I was as light as air, and I leaped over boulders and logs as if they were nothing but mere pebbles in a stream, and I was the stream. I had not yet felt my longing for home, no, that would be many many days later. But still, right now I was enjoying my freedom, my time alone in this amazing place.

It was not long before I tired, panting heavily. The air passed through the wide jaws of the skull mask upon my face, causing old pieces of loose bone to rattle. All I needed was the music that filled the air when I danced to accompany the lovely sound working in my head, but I was too tired to do anything more than rest up.