A superwoman & her relationship with pain. My love letter to superhero comics.

Audio Dreamland is an 8-page, genre-bending comic that blurs the line between music, dreams, and self-discovery. It follows Sammy and Melia Lucid, two artists trapped in their own creative block, who are pulled into a surreal realm ruled by the goddess Hathor a world built from sound, memory, and emotion. Inside this dreamscape, they face living reflections of their inner demons Fear, Shame, Doubt, Insecurity, and Ego each born from the battles every artist fights: comparison, loss, pressure, and the weight of self-doubt. Through rhythm, movement, and love, they learn that creation itself is the cure. 💭 Audio Dreamland is about facing your inner noise and finding harmony again, about two artists rediscovering purpose, passion, and love through the power of sound and storytelling.

Why does liberation hold space for both our deepest joy and grief? Writer Anas Abdulhak with artists Anton Mozhegov, and Mattia Monaco (KNOCK EM DEAD) grapple with that question in a tale of freedom and the dread that comes with it. A one-shot comic book of abstract imagery accompanied by poetry. A fleeting vision of two entities linked by the burden of letting go of all that k

There’s something wrong, wrong with the ink, wrong with the world, life changes…

Fear and denial.

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.