The Twisted Roads Of Matthew Tonks
'Journey to a place, where all his nightmares, become your reality…'
What did those idiotic boys have to read, what stories were told, what darkness was given flight?
Tonight, we’ll begin a journey to see what words crafted the world of one, Mister Marty Towns.
What shape does his demon take, and how can he avoid its touch?
He lived at the end of our street when I was a kid growing up, nowadays he’d be labeled one of those guys to watch out for around your kids, but he was harmless, a gentle old soul who’d withered with age. He always sat on the porch of his run down house, the doors hung off, most of the windows broken, but he didn’t care, and he’d always smile when I went to visit. Then he’d tell me stories, fascinating, unbelievable stories, stories that would put a glimmer in his eye, and a broad smile on his face.
I was fifteen when Marty Tonks passed away, but, I think he stayed with me long after that, I think part of his excitement for stories rubbed off on me, I guess that’s why I named my characters after him.
Hello, and welcome to my first official blog, as master of this domain.
Honestly you’d think one of those idiots would’ve read the fucking stories I gave them, wouldn’t you?
I mean how much more obvious did I have to make it to them, read the story, it’ll help you understand things, it’ll help you know what your role is in all of this, and maybe, show you a way out.
I’m obviously dealing with two special individuals here, but it matters not, they seem to have finally got the hint, don’t you think?
If you haven’t been keep up with things I suggest you check out the last two days worth of blogs, because I have a feeling tomorrow their eyes will be open.
The final day,
of this you know,
but what lurks beyond?
a prince?
a prize?
well,
now that would be telling,
and I don’t want to ruin my fun.
The walls are falling the time is near,
you’re in for some madness in my kingdom of fear,
two days to go and my games will begin,
so hold on tightly and pray for your sin!
Hello my children, I say my, because you all, are my children in some way, shape or form.
As we move forward, you will see me more and more, for I will be the voice of all those who do not have one, I will be the master, of this domain.
You will learn to fear me, but, you will also yearn for my touch, for my, flesh.
Until then, enjoy the darkness for, it will only get darker from here on in.
For there is only 3 days until the end of all roads twisted, and the begging of trials filled with fear, and dread.
If you wish to call me, fearinfear@outlook.com is where I sit, presiding over this place I will soon call, home. Send me messages, pictures, words, those worthy, will be printed here, those, unworthy, I will keep for myself.
The Fear Master
