A mute servant breaks her silence to shatter her sister’s empire of living glass, only to uncover a repressed, mutual threat.

A nighttime hallway, an eerie noise, and a hooded figure waiting in the dark. But what if the monster isn't your enemy, but an unavoidable companion? MNSTA - a graphic novel about what hides in the shadows of childhood, and the completely new self that emerges from it.

The graphic adaptation of the award winning novel series! The Fall of the Romanov Dynasty re-told as a vampire thirller

In the wind-swept silence of the post-apocalyptic dunes, something stirs beneath the sands. Vojak, a gaunt, goggled wanderer with crimson eyes, awakens in a dead world crawling with monsters. Once a heroic supersoldier, he was enhanced by a war drug known as ICHOR, a volatile substance that twisted its users into something more than human… and far less. Now, those like him are known only as Hemovores: mutated, half-feral addicts who must feed on blood to survive.

A curious journalist walks into a vampire night club, searching for her best and final story.

A lone spirit - a remnant of darker times - struggles to relive his days of power in a world that has long forgotten its fear of the supernatural.

A glimpse into reality.

When friendships fade and social connections dissolve, the body remembers what the mind tries to forget. This abstract psychological horror explores the visceral panic of profound loneliness—not just being alone, but losing the people who once filled your world. Through stark visual metaphors rendered in near-black blues and blood-red accents, we follow an unnamed protagonist navigating the aftermath of social loss. Empty chairs still hold the warmth of departed friends. Phone messages dissolve into static. Mirrors reflect everything except the viewer. Rain falls inside bedrooms, tracing ribs like pressure maps of internal collapse. As isolation deepens, the body begins its desperate rebellion—heartlines stuttering into flatlines, tinnitus rings compressing reality, shadows reaching out for embraces that can never reach back. The protagonist’s world warps into something alien: street shadows point the wrong direction at noon, windows pulse like heartbeats across small-town darkness, and doorbell rings echo unanswered through frosted glass. This is not a story of recovery or redemption. Instead, it’s an unflinching examination of how loneliness manifests as physical emergency—the body’s primal scream of “save me” when human connection vanishes. Through minimalist visual storytelling and VHS-grain texture that makes each page feel like a fever dream, the work transforms private anguish into shared recognition. The final pages offer not rescue, but acknowledgment: a tiny red pulse on stark white, suggesting that even in our deepest isolation, some essential spark persists—waiting, hoping, enduring. 30 pages of abstract sequential art exploring grief, social loss, and the body’s memory of connection.