Since the dawn of time, storytelling has been the solitary connection between the living and the shadows, a tradition etched into prehistoric walls and penned with a noble feather.

I consumed this human legacy, not with the pedigree of an educated author, but with an imagination that offers no peace. I dwell in worlds only the lonely dare to dream of, where moonlit ruin meets the haunted embrace of romance. For the sake of my own sanity, I must transcribe these visions.

These are not tales written for fame or fortune, but to quell the urgent clamor of crowded notebooks and scattered manuscripts. Perhaps these wild, dreamt-up worlds will inspire you, or perhaps they will simply offer a necessary voice to the unquiet dark. Either way, they must be written.