I often spent my childhood at my ageing grandmothers council bungalow, while my single parent mum tried to make enough money we could live. It was then on my own in that room with the window facing a brick wall, I used to use my imagination to create a world. I read 20 books one summer in between playing card games with the old folks and being threatened by local kids as I walked home each day. I think it may have been then that I began to create worlds  in my mind to escape into.  Being a cog in the wheel of industry hid this gift from me until my mother died young , 14 years ago, and it has slowly started to re-emerge as a tool to help my mental well-being as much as share with the world. Over recent years it has built momentum, dipping my toe in the water by self publishing 3 children's novels about a fairy who is uses her differences, and the power of friendship, to  solve mysteries .  The books are about light and hope and innocence and friends. 
On the flip side of my mind,  there is a dark door, I don't speak of.  
This door is old made of mismatched ancient grained wood with panels and a large black iron lock. Inside this door lies a hidden side of nature, where hope does not dwell  but where twisted thoughts scratch at it, trying to escape. Where anger went to fester when it could not be expressed. Compressed and bolted down. Repressed and unspoken.
A world where light has long gone and a child skips along a path with a kitchen knife like it was candy floss.
White concentrated rage, existing on a hair trigger that could explode into  action. And it does .... 
This is the world of Lilith's Paladins and of Georgiana, Tobias and the rest of the warriors.