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#antique #blackandwhite #cabinet #children #creepy #dark #decorative #display #dolls #dusty #family #fiction #floor #florid #flowers #haunted #monochrome #nestingdolls #novella #ornaments #russiandolls #scary #shadow #spooky #story #toys #wood #woodgrain #displaycabinet #old #novel #wallpaper
Published: 2016-06-30 12:15:14 +0000 UTC; Views: 1073; Favourites: 60; Downloads: 6
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Description
Black and white illustration for Chapter Six of my novella 'The Haunted Snow Globe'.Pen and ink, ink wash, some digital enhancement.
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Comments: 26
It's really cool... I love that crooked perspective, which I think adds to that eerie feel. Those dolls have creepy eyes: it's like they're almost alive...
Really well done 
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Thank you very much. Yes, those nesting dolls do look rather sinister.
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I love the eerie feeling to this one, very effective
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Thank you very much. Yes, it was supposed to be a little eerie. 
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Andy are these some kind of wooden dolls? I think I have seen some similar to this before. Always awesome work
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Yes, they're based on Russian dolls.
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Oh okay I know I have seen some like that on DA someone uploaded them.
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Thanks, Lucy. I hope you're well.
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Your very welcome Andy. Yes I am ok thank you for asking. I hope you are well too
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Everything is hunky dory.
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Awesome. 
LOL. Glad to hear that everything is hunky dory!
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It's actually not very common here. I mainly know it from the title of a Bowie album. Honest.
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I thought it seem kind of strange you using those words
get it.
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I'm obsessed. I quote Bowie all the time.
By the way, I've just downloaded the first chapter of my story on Deviant. I'm not sure you'll be able to read it due to the size, but it will give you some idea of how it looks in the paper. I'll post more chapters soon.
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I know that you are obsessed
something about the story on FB. Not sure if you saw it, but your right
the writing is very tiny, is there anyway of me making it bigger?
Can you give me an idea? Cause I want to read it.
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I could always send you the text by email, and a jpeg of the relevant image. Send me your email address on Facebook and I will try to sort something out.
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Ok Ill do that right now. I would really appreciated it. I hope
you can figure something out 
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Here's the full text here, Lucy:
Prologue
He was the oddest-looking door-to-door salesman Mr Sugar had ever seen. He had wild frizzy hair that stuck out in all directions and his clothes seemed to shimmer with an array of different colours.
“My name is Arthur,” the salesman said, stroking his long, silver beard. “I believe you’re having problems with your daughter.”
Mr Sugar’s daughter, Abigail, was having another tantrum in her bedroom upstairs. She was throwing things against the wall and stamping her feet angrily against the floor.
Mr Sugar rolled his eyes wearily. “She’s a little unruly at times, yes,” he replied.
“If you want to change your daughter’s behaviour, I have just thing for you,” the salesman said and handed Mr Sugar a snow globe. “It’s magic,” the man explained in a whisper. “All she needs to do is shake the snow globe three times and, hey presto, your daughter will become a different and better person.”
There was another loud crashing noise from Abigail’s bedroom as she hurled something against the wall again. She was swearing like a parrot.
Mr Sugar was already reaching for his wallet. “How much do you want for it?” he asked.
Chapter One
The Birthday Present
“It’s horrible,’ Abigail said. “I don’t want it. It gives me the creeps.”
Abigail’s birthday was not going well.
“But we thought you’d like it,” Mrs Sugar said. She was standing over the kitchen table and spreading marmalade across a slice of toast.
“It’s an antique,” Abigail’s father explained. He was straightening his tie and hurriedly getting ready for work.
Frowning, Abigail looked down at the pretty snow globe in her hand and curled her lip into a prodigious snarl. Shredded strips of wrapping paper were still crackling at her feet.
“You mean to tell me it’s… old?” she said in disgust. “Second-hand?”
“Well, yes, of course it’s old,” Mr Sugar replied snappily. “Antiques are valued by their beauty, craftsmanship and age, not their newness”.
“If you look more closely at the ornament in your hand,” Mrs Sugar said, “you will notice that the house and the figurine inside have both been hand-painted.”
Abigail glanced at the snow globe again. It contained a model of an old, crooked house, and there was a young boy standing in the artificial snow in front.
“But I wanted an expensive make up set!” she complained. “With mascara and an eyebrow pencil and lots of tubes of ruby-red lipstick.”
Mr Sugar’s face was as serious as a sermon. “You’re far too young to be wearing make up, Abigail,” he said sternly, stabbing the air with a warning fingertip. “It’ll make you look cheap.”
A wave of hot, prickly anger swept through Abigail’s body. “But I’m not a child any more!” she snapped and angrily stamped her foot on the floor. “I’m old enough to do what I like! I’m a teenager now! I’m almost a grown-up! I’M THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!”
Mr Sugar’s eyes were bulging so far out of their sockets it looked as if his head was about to explode. “How dare you raise your voice in front of your parents!” he shouted, slamming his fist against the table. “Where’s your respect, girl? Where are your manners?” He pointed to the door. “Get out of my sight, Abigail! Get out of my sight at once!”
Abigail knew from the tone in her father’s voice that she had pushed her parents too far. Clasping the snow globe against her chest, she bolted out of the room, giving the kitchen door an extra swing before slamming it shut behind her. In her bedroom upstairs, she placed the unwanted birthday present on her bedside table and then padded across the room to her window.
It was the middle of the summer holidays and large, big-bellied bumblebees were hovering over the flower tops in the garden outside. She watched her father climb into his car, turn on the ignition and drive away to work.
Abigail sighed. Deep down inside, she knew that her parents loved and cared for her, but she also knew that they were very disappointed with her. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d been in trouble at school and her end-of-year report had been peppered with words such as ‘disobedient’, ‘lazy’ and ‘disrespectful’. Naturally, her parents had been very angry and upset, but it was the looks of disappointment in their eyes that had made her heart swirl with emotion.
With another sigh, Abigail turned away from the window.
And that’s when she heard the voice.
“Help me,” it said. ‘Please help me.”
With her face clouded by confusion, Abigail looked around the room.
“Help me,” the voice repeated. “Please help me. I’m trapped.”
It was like a voice on a breeze, almost not there at all.
She raked her fingertips through her hair. Was somebody playing games? Was somebody hiding in her bedroom? With her heart dancing briskly, she peered under the bed, checked the back of the wardrobe and even looked behind the curtains.
There was nobody there.
With a cold shiver travelling up and down her spine, Abigail fixed her eyes on the figurine of the small boy standing inside the snow globe.
“Please, please help me,” the boy said. “I’m trapped.”
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Ha ha. Yes, they do look rather creepy.
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Never trust a Russian doll. 
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Well, there's nothing creepy about dolls in an abandoned house...
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You wanna bet.
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