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Description
I feel like i'm getting better and better each week, i discover more things along the way and learn new stuff with each page/strips, for example, i learn how to do Onomatopoeia this time, pretty cool huh ?

Horror is to know that someone has broken into your house, and replace every furniture you own with the same version. It’s the same bed that you sleep in every night, it’s the same sofa that you rest on after every exhausting day … but somehow, someway, it’s different. Horror is hearing the thumping footsteps on the old maple wooden floor, the longing everlasting squeaking door in the middle of the night, when you’re the only person inside the house. Horror is knowing that there’s a serial killer inside your house, but you can’t see him, you can’t find him. You feel his presence, and you know, that he’s watching you with a fixing gaze, somewhere, somewhere near.

It’s not the creep factor of owning something for your entire life, only to find out one day that it’s different, or the image of a maniac with a bloody axe that scare you. It’s the idea of your home, the place which is not simply a roof above your head, but also your safe haven, where you have the utmost piece of mind, knowing that you’re safe inside, has been tampered.

Horror is not seeing a sea of blood and coral of guts intruding from down below, the school of fish decaying scattering along the intestine-filled shore.

Horror … It’s knowing that the place where you feel safe the most is intruded.

Horror … It’s knowing that your home has been compromised.

Text version here: raven-hd-maverick.deviantart.c…

Description
I feel like i'm getting better and better each week, i discover more things along the way and learn new stuff with each page/strips, for example, i learn how to do Onomatopoeia this time, pretty cool huh ?

Horror is to know that someone has broken into your house, and replace every furniture you own with the same version. It’s the same bed that you sleep in every night, it’s the same sofa that you rest on after every exhausting day … but somehow, someway, it’s different. Horror is hearing the thumping footsteps on the old maple wooden floor, the longing everlasting squeaking door in the middle of the night, when you’re the only person inside the house. Horror is knowing that there’s a serial killer inside your house, but you can’t see him, you can’t find him. You feel his presence, and you know, that he’s watching you with a fixing gaze, somewhere, somewhere near.

It’s not the creep factor of owning something for your entire life, only to find out one day that it’s different, or the image of a maniac with a bloody axe that scare you. It’s the idea of your home, the place which is not simply a roof above your head, but also your safe haven, where you have the utmost piece of mind, knowing that you’re safe inside, has been tampered.

Horror is not seeing a sea of blood and coral of guts intruding from down below, the school of fish decaying scattering along the intestine-filled shore.

Horror … It’s knowing that the place where you feel safe the most is intruded.

Horror … It’s knowing that your home has been compromised.

Text version here: raven-hd-maverick.deviantart.c…