The Chronicles

I have always been drawn to shadows. Gothic works were my first love, their haunted cathedrals, their candlelit corridors, their obsessions dressed in lace. But I never stayed in the past. My work wanders into the modern psychological thriller, where the mind itself becomes the labyrinth, and the walls shift while you’re still inside.

My background in psychology is more than study; it is a ritual. I have lived inside the puzzles of thought, studied the fractures, the strange ways we protect ourselves, and the cracks where nightmares slip through. I write not to solve the mind, but to expose it, to pull back its mask until it flinches.

Serial killers have long held my attention, not for the spectacle of blood, but for the patterns, the choices, the obsessions, the rituals no one noticed until it was far too late. They are mirrors of our own compulsions, exaggerated, unashamed. To understand them is to understand how thin the line is between order and ruin.

This is who I am, and these are my chronicles: fragments of ink and ash, stitched together to remember that the Gothic is not dead. It breathes in modern light, it waits in clinical silence, it thrives in every story I tell.