A Peek Behind the Curtain

(Mind the Shadows)

How It All Began → A Whisper in the Dark

When I finished writing From Within the Shadows, I gave myself a quiet little round of applause.

Why? Because I’d never written fiction in English before, and yet somehow, here it is: a whole book, alive and kicking (and occasionally cackling).

I took on this peculiar project to encourage a fellow writer.

But then I thought, “Well, you can’t possibly write something good, in your sixth language, no less!”

Yes, I can. And I did it.

With a fertile imagination and a pinch of rebellion, storytelling spills out whether we are ready or not.

That said… editing? Editing is another beast entirely. It’s not a process, it’s a performance. A balletic, stubborn, word-obsessed waltz where the wrong adjective can ruin everything, and the right verb sings like a tuning fork. I learned the steps the hard way, mostly with stubbed toes and deleted paragraphs.

Inside the collection, you’ll find:

• Tales that giggle in the dark (often at your expense)

• Crimes committed with flair and a flourish

• Quiet dramas curled up in the corners of the mind

The Stories Speak → Voices Behind the Veil

You’ll find a curious blend of genres here: crime, dark comedy, and psychological drama.

But what ties them all together is their fascination with what makes us tick, twitch, and occasionally unravel.

The writing style is theatrical, deliciously so. Dialogue is sparse, but drama is not.

Don’t expect everything to be handed to you. The juiciest secrets are tucked away behind elaborate sentences and winding turns of phrase. You’ll have to go digging.

But if you’re the sort who likes to wander off the path and eavesdrop on shadows… well.

You’re in the right place.

Why This Title → The Weight of Words

Naming this collection was a journey in itself.

It was once called Red, inspired by a single, searing event in one of the tales.

Eventually, it became “From Within the Shadows,”  a title that better captures the murmurs, mysteries, and mischief threading through the pages.

Cover Design → The Face of the Story

The book cover?

A minor saga.

I tried on three different outfits for the book before settling on the one that fit just right: a little eerie, a little elegant, and just odd enough to raise an eyebrow.

Every story in this book was born from a real moment. A look, a loss, a laugh, a gesture, a dream, a questionable reality. Then it was whisked through the looking glass of my mind and came out wearing stranger clothes.

Unwanted

“I was the leftover thought. The echo she never silenced.”

The Inspiration Behind the Story:

There was a time in my life when I smiled for the world, yet my mind whispered things I never dared say. I wore perfection like a mask, but beneath it… darkness bloomed.

‘Unwanted’ gave voice to those buried thoughts, the ones we all sometimes fear to admit. It’s a reminder that unattended mental pain doesn’t disappear; it festers, takes shape, and sometimes whispers in a voice that isn’t quite our own. This isn’t a confession—it’s a warning: the mind, left in silence too long, creates company.

And the rest… the rest is pure imagination.

Pain

“They called it progress. She called it silence.”

The Inspiration Behind the Story:

One morning, I woke with a sentence lodged like a stone in my mind: “The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the empty room.” It came unbidden, sharp, vivid, impossible to ignore. I didn’t know whose hand, whose pain, or why—but that crack of sound demanded a story.

And then, the story bloomed around a single woman, caught in a cruel experiment where the promise of a pain-free existence becomes a cage. She’s the silent witness to science’s cold ambition, a fragile soul stripped bare beneath harsh lights. Pain, after all, is the heartbeat of being human: take it away, and the emptiness swells.

And the rest… the rest is pure imagination.

The Butcher

“Born with a cleaver, crowned with illusion.”

The Inspiration Behind the Story:

I was staring at the everyday world—dull, predictable, painfully normal, and thought, what if all this “reality” is just a badly edited show? What if behind that bland curtain, a freak circus runs wild, laughing at how we all play along like fools?

The boy: hungry, scrappy, and ruthless; a self-made legend carving his way to the top, hungry for power and prestige. He’s not just chasing power; he’s swallowing every opportunity whole, grinding the world beneath his feet with a grin that says, “I’m the biggest fish here, and you’re just chum.” This isn’t a coming-of-age story. It’s a coming-for-you story, served with a side of gallows humour and a razor-sharp twist.

And the rest… the rest is pure imagination.

Red

The secret wasn’t buried. It was watching! Blood remembers what the family forgets.

The Inspiration Behind the Story:

One day, a family secret slipped through the cracks. It was buried for decades, rotting in silence. I couldn’t understand how, in this era of surveillance and oversharing, something so big could stay hidden. Then it hit me: there’s always one person who knows. Always. Not in the limelight, never in the centre stage, but always around. Watching. Listening. Holding the thread.
“Red” is a slow-burn crime tale that begins in childhood, where innocence curdles, and silence becomes currency. The main character? You don’t know him yet. But he’s been here the whole time, just outside the scene, with a front-row seat to the unravelling. Truth doesn’t knock; it bleeds. And when it comes, it stains everything.

And the rest… the rest is pure imagination.

Kolcho, the Saviour

Every great heist needs one complete idiot.

The Inspiration Behind the Story:

I was enduring one of those sleek American heist films. You know, the kind where the crew’s so polished they practically sparkle. Every variable accounted for, every plan airtight. But my mind took a left turn: what if something wildly stupid, something no genius saw coming—brought it all crashing down? And then, Kolcho entered.

A hilariously average man with delusions of grandeur, the kind of guy who wears socks with holes and still dreams of yachts. By day, he’s a family man fumbling through life; by night… well, still fumbling, but with slightly more flair. He wants to be rich. He wants to be important. He also can’t stick to a plan for more than five minutes without tripping over his own logic. And yet, somehow, absurdly, fate hands him the spotlight. And Kolcho is somewhere there too.To save the guy.

And the rest… the rest is pure imagination.

True Love

He couldn’t fall for anyone else, he was already spoken for.

The Inspiration Behind the Story:

I met someone once, gentle, polite, perfectly composed. But beneath that calm exterior, there was something… still. A stillness that didn’t come from peace, but from being sealed shut, like a room never opened. It made me wonder: what happens to a heart raised to beat only for one person? And who might that person be?

“True Love” is a lullaby with a knife in it. An aching story about how love, when fed in isolation, becomes a trap disguised as devotion. It’s about the invisible architecture built inside our souls. And how some boys never move out, no matter how far they walk. On the surface, it’s a tender exploration of a man who longs for connection but stumbles at every turn. The truth, however, lies in what’s left unsaid.

And the rest… the rest is pure imagination.