Psyche

32

Psyche has a weakness for butterflies. These delicate creatures struggle to free themselves from their transparent cocoons, their seemingly clumsy bodies eventually unfold into airy wings that carry them to the skies. She admires such an amazing life form that is reborn after trials and tribulations. Perhaps the billions of butterfly ornaments adorning her outfit reflect a ray of hope that she cherishes for herself.

Spectre

3

Pale moonlight shines on your face, you are inside an old house, it seems. Is that a dream? And if so, maybe even an nightmare? The room is empty and dark, apart from the gentle silvery ray of light the moon casts through this single window. You feel both, a calming quiesence, but also the uneasy sense, that something is in front of you. Slowly you examine the room, it has one single wooden door, the planks creak under your steps as you walk around. Everything is silent. Then you suddenly hear footsteps! Someone is approaching! Or something!

The Moth

5

Darkness. Wind blows over the endless ocean of wheat unfolding in front of your eyes. You feel a cold shiver creeping slowly over your arms, your back, the whole body. You exhale audibly. Then again, the sound of wingbeats. The same dream. Again. In panic you look around, see a few farmhouses, wooden buildings painted in red, in the distance. You run. The shadow is already upon you. Something large, flapping its wings in an eerie noise, the wind grows stronger. You have this dream for weeks now, every night. Every single one. You turn and face your pursuer. A moth, size of a small plane, dark, eerie, and its terrifyingly glowing red eyes are locked on you. You turn and run for your life...you have to reach the houses before this...abomination gets you