Original works / Original works

There was a time when memories flowed slowly, like old black-and-white photographs left in forgotten albums. These moments were captured on paper, like parts of our soul, overshadowed by a veil of nostalgia.

Somewhere in the boundless oceans of fate, under the dark giant of heaven, a lone pirate named Edmund was swimming. His ship, like an eclipsed shadow, glided over the waves, leaving behind only echoes of the past.

In the heart of a distant country, where time passes like a tired warrior after countless battles, an old fort, the guardian of mysterious memories, towered. In its walls, saturated with the smell of former wars, reflections of the past greeted guests like ghosts wandering among the ruins of memory.

In the shadow of the piano moon, where the heavens become the great ocean of night, a symphony of longing is born. Sounds, like raindrops, fall on the gray streets of memories, forming puddles in which the echoes of lost moments drown.

In the heart of the fading forest, where the rays of the sun penetrate through the old branches, lived a hermit named Ellian. His dwelling, like a monument to forgotten times, towered among tall trees, framed by the petals of withered flowers and the soft whisper of the wind.

The beaming sun rays are chased by a ghostly ocean. Vivi’s going to hunt them down first.

Somewhere in the heart of the Zone, where the light does not penetrate and the wind does not whisper, a lonely stalker lives. His name has long been forgotten, as have all his friends. There is a heavy air around him, saturated with a fog of mystery and loss.

The rain slowly fell on the autumn forest, creating a monotonous whispering of branches and leaves, as if inviting meditation in this melancholic atmosphere. In the distance, in the shade of dense trees, stood an old apple tree, the only witness of the past years.

She couldn't let go of the feeling. It clutched at her throat and needled its way into the depths of heart. It squeezed her chest like a python and tangled her legs. Fear of self and guilt. In the glassy eyes, there she was, the woman with hair the color of pure silver, with a voice like the rustling of leaves, with blood the color of night. A palm on which lay an eye the color of amethyst. An eye socket oozing blood. An offer that somehow was impossible to refuse. To know more. The Truth.

Is the human heart a mystery? Only if the mystery that hides the whole world within.

A gloomy haze lazily swirls over the panel houses, like a sinister ghost, suffocating in the dreary twilight. The dull grayness of this area, like a prisoner of inexpressible emotions, envelops the hearts of its inhabitants, plunging them into hopelessness and loneliness.

In the far corner of the garden, where time has stopped, there is an old table made of massive wood, surrounded by lush foliage and a haze of fog, like a mysterious veil hiding the past and the future. An exquisitely carved porcelain cup stands on it, crowned with patterns like flower petals shrouded in an unearthly mystery.

A little collection of poems (or sort of). Some are about my muses, some are personal.

The maniacal obsession with the career is the reason the relationship between Raquelle Cameron, and Terrence MacClife is in a crisis. And the appearance of Simon Ringer reveals all the problems that they did not want to notice under the influence of strong passion. Raquelle has to fight against the man, who is determined to erase her from this world, and choose the future of her relationship with Terrence, who becomes one of those, who turn their backs on her when she needs someone's support.

Due to the false rumors spread by someone to defame her good name, the famous model, Raquelle Cameron, loses the admiration of her fans and a perfect reputation. After deciding to ride out the storm and visit her aunt, Alicia Middleton, she finds out that mortal danger is threatening her. Raquelle is determined to punish the one, who may deprive her of everything she has earned for ages, and help her aunt, not knowing about the sins that have been tearing the woman’s soul apart for many years.

Sometimes people meet each other at the wrong time. And they have to fight for their love.

A long time ago, in a corner of a forgotten library, an old book lay like an aging lady in a shabby ball gown. Its pages were yellow like autumn leaves, withered by time, but it hid stories that pulled deep, like the smell of old wine.

When the soul becomes as thin as glass, and you stand on the edge of your own existence, the feeling, like a flock of butterflies, beats helplessly inside you. You try to reflect your pain like a mirror splitting into a thousand pieces, which alternately cut deep wounds on your soul.

The Annual Booklovers Ball arrives in the dead of night. Gaku is to pay guests her respects.

In the dark corners of the evening sky, where the clouds weave their white clouds, an invisible struggle between light and darkness flared up. In a world where suffering and hope are entwined in a tangled dance, a righteous demon was born, released to earth with a mission to save fading hearts. His eyes shone like fire, penetrating through the twilight and revealing their secrets to those who were ready to hear.