. . . s u r r e n d e r . . .

Rain pours down around you, soaking you through, chilling you to the bone. The wind whistles and shrieks as it lashes the trees surounding the clearing in which you stand. Thunder booms, deafening, followed by a brief silence as the lightning cracks and brightens the sky momentarily. Thunder roars again, a long, deep rumble, growing in intensity... then fading off to nothing... A door opens before you, appearing out of the darkness. A voice whispers softly in your ear...

"Welcome to the land of Midnight, seek refuge from the storm. Allow your imagination to run wild, but beware the roses thorn..."




Saving Grace

Creative Expressions






My Shoebox

Avenge Yourself