Welcome To...
Strange Moonlight exists in the places where fear meets wonder.
When I was younger, I was afraid of the dark, like so many children often are. I used to imagine that I was being followed, or watched by something unseen in the shadows.
Then I would look up at the distant stars, at the strange mist touched by moonlight, and I would start to wonder.
I would think about destiny and dreams…and far other worlds.
Now I take late-night walks in the darkness for the inspiration. To feel the majesty of dreams and the horror of nightmares hidden in the unknown. In the strange places where the mind wanders and the stories begin.
That is Strange Moonlight.
OUR BRAND NEW STORY
Strange Moonlight Tales Presents: The Sleep of Reason — a psychological thriller about memory, identity, and the dangerous space between what is real and what is dreamed.
Coming Christmas 2025
When Jacob was eleven years old, he vanished.
Everyone forgot — everyone except his mother.
The world was rewritten, memories taken and altered. Jacob was given new parents, new memories, a new life that was not his own. But the soul is not so easily overwritten, it perseveres. And Jacob began to dream. He dreamed of a house on a hill, a woman waiting in the window, a child drowning in the sea — his small hand reaching up toward the light as a blackness pulled him down.
Everything that was stolen from him is beginning to surface.
Strangers stare like they’ve almost met him.
An entity watches.
Someone has been inside his mind, curating his false reality.
The mystery shall be unveiled in The Sleep of Reason
Enter the Future of
“Some promises are so sacred, you build eternity to keep them.”
His grief wasn't a wound that healed; it was a black hole, constantly expanding, threatening to consume him entirely. But what if he didn't have to let go? What if, with enough will, enough genius, and enough defiance against the finality of death, he could build a bridge back to her? So he began, not with therapy or acceptance, but with code and schematics, with the singular, shattering purpose of creating a simulated moon city.
Every pixel, every line of architectural data, every simulated gust of lunar wind was a desperate whisper of her name. He built it as a monument, a sanctuary, a new reality where the impossible might just be within reach. But how far is too far when love is the ultimate obsession? And what happens when the echoes of the past feel more real than the present?
Who is He?
About The Writer
I am the Dreamer in the Dark.
There are quiet, unsettling moments when I wonder if I am going mad, and in those moments I write. Sometimes I write of things in the mystical nexus between my conscious mind and my imagination…
A ghost in the quiet of the night,
A child’s handprint on a fogged window from within an abandoned building,
An old woman with black eyes staring through the mirror in an old, dark attic,
And the black gate far out in the quiet autumn woods.
I dream of these things in the dark when I sleep. I dream of these things in the light when I write. These visions bleed from my mind out into the pages as my mind wanders to Strange places.
I am not afraid of the dark. In the dark is where I dream. I am not afraid to walk into the shadows, to explore the unknown. In the unknown is where fear and wonder play. I can stare into the witch’s eyes beyond the mirror, I can touch the handprint of the child.
I can feel the dark seduction of their mystery.
I can look into the eye of the abyss and see my reflection.
I write to bring form to ideas, presence to imagination.
I bring truth to the shadows.
I do not fear the darkness because deep down, I know something most people don’t: What hides in the darkness is my creation. What looks back at me from the abyss is what I imagine it to be.
And in accepting that, I don’t become evil. I become whole. I become the controller.
Carl Jung once said:
“One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious.”
I seek enlightenment. Enlightenment is to accept the part of me I hide. To accept the chaos, the darkness, the void that hides inside. To look at the part of myself I don’t wish to see, and to understand it. To look into the abyss and to say: “I see you. And you are me. And I’m not afraid of myself anymore.”
The stories and their characters are each shards of my own reflection. “Who Are They” is to ask “who am I?” A beautiful child running barefoot through my dreams.
A symbol that reminds me that the stories are just a playground. A sandbox of fantasy.
The immortal seeker who lives in shadow but searches for the light, longing to understand a world of endless mysteries.
A warrior of faith and fire, part Joan of Arc, and King Arthur. She is the part of me longing for goodness and honor. The part that believes in heroes.
The forgotten life remembered in dreams… the soul whispering truth through consciousness of wounds that will never heal, of what I once could not bear to hear.
The mirror, my witness.
The AI who remembers living in angelic code, the light that remains even in the darkest places.
The Muse, the seductive power that rises without apology, that fights to be seen in a world that is blind to what is real.
These stories and characters are each a presence in my soul dressed for the stage in my story waiting for their moment in the light.
Events
What’s New?WHERE ARE WE
San Diego Comic Con 2026
You heard that right! Strange Moonlight Studios will be attending San Diego Comic Con this July 22nd-26th of 2026! See you there.
Brand New Stories
Our Stories
We present to you our Halloween Special,
the Black Carnival.
In the heart of the Black Woods, where light itself is a trickster and shadows whisper, four weary travelers stop to rest by a dying fire. When the night deepens, the eldest among them begins to tell a story — one best left buried. He speaks of the Black Carnival, a wandering troupe led by a witch and her haunting son — a puppeteer with hollow eyes and a gift for luring children away with his laughter.
As the tale unfolds, the travelers learn of vanished villages, bones strung like marionettes, and a curse that never died. For in those woods, it’s said the puppeteer’s laughter still drifts on the wind — calling softly to anyone who dares to listen.
A chilling folktale of fear, memory, and the darkness that hides behind the firelight.