Danika Stone

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It was like a mask had been pulled away from his face, uncovering a monster hidden beneath his friendly façade

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Thursday afternoon, the dark clouds closed in, and by Friday morning a heavy rain was falling. The mountain peaks were hazy sentinels, disappearing into misty fog that clung to the valley

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Everyone has their own life, their own experiences. And sometimes we get pulled into the experiences of others

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In his stupor, the forest had begun to change. The sounds were confusing, his eyes blurring in his exhaustion. He tugged another branch out of the way, gasping as a jagged twig poked through the palm of his hand, momentarily catching there. The pain was almost an afterthought, his fingers no longer working effectively

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I think sometimes in artwork or writing or music, you discover something that just needs to be created. It’s not even something that you want to create... You’re just pulled into it like an instrument. Like you’re part of a bigger plan