I have always loved stories, have always gotten a little thrill out of reading about Neverlands and far away wizarding schools, always searching for an escape. Now, I write, providing others with their own escapes. I write stories of fiendish pirates, poisoning tea with nightshade and sailing the seas to carry on a mother’s legacy. I write of plagues and pestilence, of crows invading the skies and turning them black. I write of an angel loving a human so much that they would fall from the heavens for him, just as Icarus did for the sun. Stories are meant to be shared, fantasies to get lost in... and yet, sometimes I wonder, how far into my fantasies is too far?