I didn’t set out to write horror.
I started with a girl.
A blacksmith’s daughter who had lived in my imagination for a long time. I kept her story close to my heart because there was something about her that I understood deeply. She was strong. Different. Bigger than the people around her believed a girl should be. And because of that, she endured cruelty, bullying, judgment, and the constant message that she didn’t belong.
Her name is Amra.
Her story eventually became the foundation of my Bloody Berserk Angel comic series, but long before I thought about genres or comic issues or volumes, I thought about her.
I thought about her anger.
I thought about what happens when someone spends years being told there is something wrong with them simply because they don’t fit inside the expectations of their society.
And I thought about her longing to find the one place where she could finally belong.
That was the story.
Then I started writing Volume One.
And something unexpected happened.
The deeper I went into Amra’s world, the more I realized I was writing horror.
Not because I suddenly decided the story needed monsters or frightening imagery. But because the horror was already there.
Sometimes life contains its own forms of horror.
There is horror in cruelty.
There is horror in watching a group of people decide that someone is unacceptable because she is different.
There is horror in isolation.
In humiliation.
In being surrounded by people and still knowing that nobody standing beside you will stand for you.
And there is something terrifying about what a person might become after enduring enough of it.
That realization opened an entirely new creative door for me.
I started asking questions that fit naturally inside Amra’s story.
Who is the real monster?
Is it the creature everyone fears?
Or can it be the people pointing at someone else and calling her the monster?
Then came another question that became just as important:
How far are you willing to go to fit in?
What parts of yourself will you hide?
What will you tolerate?
What will you change?
And what happens when trying to belong starts costing you the very person you are?
Those questions fascinated me because they allowed horror to become more than something frightening happening on the page. Horror became another way of exploring humanity.
And that is where I fell in love with writing it.
I still love science fiction. I still love fantasy. Those genres give me enormous worlds, magic, mythology, strange cultures, and possibilities that stretch far beyond our own reality.
But horror gave me something different.
It gave me permission to look directly at the uncomfortable parts of being human.
Rage.
Fear.
Rejection.
The desperate need to belong.
The damage people can inflict on one another when a society becomes too rigid about who someone is allowed to be.
And underneath all of that, the question that keeps pulling me back:
What finally makes someone say, Enough?
Bloody Berserk Angel lives at the intersection of all these things. There is fantasy. There is science fiction. There is violence and danger. There are moments that are disturbing and frightening.
But at its heart, it remains the story of that blacksmith’s daughter.
A girl who doesn’t fit.
A girl carrying far more rage than she knows what to do with.
A girl searching for somewhere, anywhere, she might belong without having to become someone else first.
I never expected her story to turn me into a horror writer.
Maybe that is why I find the genre so fascinating.
The best horror, at least for me, isn’t only about what frightens us.
It asks us to look closer at ourselves.
And sometimes, that is where the real monsters are hiding.
I hope readers enjoy discovering Amra’s world as much as I have enjoyed writing it.
Even the frightening parts.
Especially the frightening parts.