True stories no one dares to speak of. It is subliminal.
Stories that were wiped from the name of history,
but revealed to those who look further.
Dreams are realities unspoken.
With over a decade of experience in high-end boutique design, I specialize in creating spaces that tell a story through texture and light. My approach blends neo-classical editorial principles with organic minimalism, ensuring every project is a curated masterpiece. I believe in the power of silence and the beauty of the unpolished, transforming local heritage into timeless design experiences.
Whether you have a project in mind or just want to say hello, I'd love to hear from you. Reach out to discuss your vision or simply drop a line about your latest project.
Let's create
something.
01Hidden Places
Stories written for the screen: features, shorts and pilots. Each one begins in a place no one thought to look.
01
A night archivist discovers the city's erased records are still being written, and that tomorrow's entry has her name on it.
Mara Voss has catalogued the city's records alone, at night, for eleven years. When a ledger appears with tomorrow's date and her name in fresh ink, she follows the entries backwards through decades of erased lives, and finds that every person who was written into the archive's last page disappeared the following day.
FADE IN:
INT. CITY HALL ARCHIVE - BASEMENT - NIGHT
Endless shelves. A single green lamp. Dust hangs in the light like it has nowhere else to be.
MARA VOSS (30s), cardigan over a security badge, wheels a cart of ledgers between the stacks. She stops. A drawer is open that wasn't a minute ago.
She slides it closed. Somewhere deeper in the dark, another drawer slides open.
MARA
(quietly)
Hello?
Nothing. She pulls a ledger from the open drawer. The ink on the last page is still wet.
INSERT - THE LEDGER
Tomorrow's date. And beneath it, in careful handwriting: MARA VOSS.
02
Two estranged brothers rebuild their late father's pirate radio station, broadcasting the one song he never let them hear.
Eight years after walking out, Noah comes home for his father's funeral and finds his younger brother Eli restoring the pirate radio station their father ran from a cliffside shack. To finish it, they have to play the tapes he left behind, including the one song he swore they would never hear.
EXT. CLIFFSIDE SHACK - DAWN
A rusted antenna leans into the wind above a shack held together by tarp and stubbornness.
INT. SHACK - CONTINUOUS
Dust sheets over everything. ELI (20s) pulls one off: a homemade radio desk, every dial taped and labelled in a father's handwriting.
NOAH (30s) lingers in the doorway. He hasn't crossed a threshold in this house in eight years.
NOAH
He kept all of it.
ELI
He kept everything. Except us.
Eli flips a switch. The desk hums. A small red light blinks: ON AIR.
03
When a shuttered theatre reopens, its stage manager realises the lamp left burning each night was never meant to keep the ghosts away.
The Meridian Theatre has been dark for thirty years. Stage manager June Okafor is hired to bring it back to life, and the first rule she's given is the oldest one in theatre: never let the ghost light go out. Over one season, she learns who the light was really keeping in.
INT. THE MERIDIAN THEATRE - STAGE - NIGHT
Rows of empty velvet seats. On the bare stage stands a single caged bulb on a pole: the ghost light.
JUNE OKAFOR (40s), stage manager, keys on a lanyard, checks the bulb. Warm. Steady.
She turns to leave. Behind her, the bulb DIMS.
JUNE
(without turning)
Not tonight.
The light steadies.
From the back of the house: slow applause. One pair of hands.
CUT TO BLACK.
04
The summer the river dries up, a boy finds the town's buried history on its bed, and a reason everyone wanted it drowned.
In the driest summer on record, the river through Miller's Bend disappears, and twelve-year-old Tommy starts finding things on its bed that the town spent fifty years pretending never happened. With his best friend Callie, he digs up the truth the adults drowned, one object at a time.
EXT. MILLER'S BEND - RIVERBED - DAY
Cracked mud stretches where the river used to be. Fish bones. A bicycle wheel. A church bell, half buried, green with age.
TOMMY (12) crouches and digs at something with a stick. A wooden box. Lead-sealed.
CALLIE (12) skids down the bank behind him.
CALLIE
My dad says don't touch anything down here.
TOMMY
Why?
CALLIE
He didn't say. He just said it like he meant it.
05
A hotel housekeeper who hasn't spoken in forty years slips a note under the one door no guest may open, and gets an answer in her missing sister's handwriting.
Ada has cleaned the third floor of the Grand Alder Hotel for decades without saying a word. When she slips a note under the door of Room 9, the room no guest may book, the replies come back in the handwriting of June, the sister who vanished from this hotel in 1984, writing as if it's still the night before she disappeared. Ada has one chance to find her voice and ask June to stay.
INT. GRAND ALDER HOTEL - THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR - NIGHT
A housekeeping cart rolls over patterned carpet. ADA (50s) pushes it without a sound.
She passes Rooms 7 and 8. Room 9 has no number on the door. Just the faint shadow where one used to be.
Ada stops. Takes a folded note from her apron. Slides it under the door.
She waits.
The note slides back out. Unfolded. Something new is written beneath hers.
FADE IN:
INT. GRAND ALDER HOTEL - THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR - NIGHT
A housekeeping cart rolls over patterned carpet. ADA (50s), grey uniform, hair pinned tight, pushes it without a sound.
She passes Rooms 7 and 8. Room 9 has no number on the door. Just the faint shadow where one used to be.
Ada stops. Takes a folded note from her apron. Slides it under the door.
She waits.
The note slides back out. Unfolded. Beneath her neat print, new handwriting loops across the page:
"WHO'S THERE?"
Ada steps back from the door as if it's warm.
INT. GRAND ALDER HOTEL - STAFF ROOM - NIGHT
Lockers. A humming fridge. A clock that runs four minutes slow.
Ada opens her locker. Taped inside the door: a faded photograph of two teenage girls on a pier, squinting into the sun. Written along the bottom: "A + J, summer '83."
MR. HALLORAN (60s), night manager, leans in the doorway with a clipboard.
HALLORAN
Third floor done?
Ada nods.
HALLORAN
And you stayed clear of nine.
A beat. She nods again.
HALLORAN
Nobody's booked that room since before my time. Owner's orders. Doesn't even have a key anymore.
He taps the clipboard against the frame and goes.
Ada looks at the photograph. At the girl on the right, laughing at something outside the frame.
INT. THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR - NIGHT (LATER)
Ada kneels at Room 9. Writes on a fresh page, pressing hard:
"WHO ARE YOU?"
She slides it under. The answer comes faster this time.
"JUNE. ROOM 9. WHO ARE YOU, LEAVING NOTES AT 3 A.M.? THIS PLACE IS CREEPY ENOUGH."
Ada's hand finds the wall. In the corner of the page, June has written the date out of habit:
OCTOBER 14, 1984.
INT. THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR - SERIES OF NIGHTS
-- Notes slide back and forth under the door. Ada's print, small and careful. June's handwriting, big and impatient.
-- June writes about a boy named CAL. A guitarist. A van with a mattress in the back. The coast.
"WE LEAVE TOMORROW NIGHT. DON'T TELL MY MOTHER. ACTUALLY, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW MY MOTHER. HA."
-- Ada writes two words. Crosses them out. Writes them again.
"DON'T GO."
-- The reply takes a long time.
"YOU SOUND LIKE MY SISTER."
Ada presses the note flat against her chest.
INT. STAFF ROOM - DAWN
Ada peels back the photograph in her locker. Underneath it, folded small: a newspaper clipping, brittle and brown.
LOCAL GIRL, 17, MISSING. LAST SEEN AT GRAND ALDER HOTEL. OCTOBER 15, 1984.
A school portrait of JUNE beneath the headline. The same laugh as the girl on the pier.
Ada closes the locker. Holds the door shut with both hands.
INT. THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR - NIGHT
The last night. Ada stands at Room 9 with a blank page. She tries to write. The pen won't move.
She sets the pen down. Kneels. Puts her mouth to the gap beneath the door.
Her voice, when it comes, is cracked from forty years of disuse.
ADA
June.
Silence on the other side.
ADA
(barely)
It's Ada. Please. Stay.
Nothing. The corridor lights hum.
Then: three soft knocks from inside the door. Two quick, one slow.
Ada covers her mouth. She knows that knock. She taught it to her.
INT. ROOM 9 - DAWN
The door stands ajar. Ada pushes it open.
An ordinary hotel room. Bed made. Curtains open. Pale morning light across the carpet. No dust. No ghost.
On the pillow, a folded note.
Ada opens it. June's handwriting, one last time:
"I STAYED. -- J."
INT. GRAND ALDER HOTEL - LOBBY - MORNING
Day staff arriving. Coffee. Ringing phones. Ada crosses the lobby with her coat on.
She passes the wall of framed staff photos. Stops at one: STAFF, 1985.
Second row, third from the left, in a crisp uniform and a crooked smile: June. Eighteen years old. Alive.
Ada touches the glass.
HALLORAN (O.S.)
Ada.
She turns. Halloran holds a phone receiver against his chest.
HALLORAN
Your sister's on the line. Says you're late for Sunday dinner. Again.
Ada looks at the receiver for a long moment. Then, for the first time, she smiles.
ADA
Tell her I'm on my way.
She walks out through the revolving doors into the morning.
FADE OUT.
THE END
02Forgotten Spaces
Animated shorts, liminal spaces, light, architecture and colour: rooms and moments that feel half-remembered.
Short film · Thriller
A commuter falls asleep on the last train home and wakes in a carriage that keeps adding stations that were never on the map. A fully animated short thriller.
Short film · Thriller
A security guard watches a camera feed of the room he's standing in, three seconds into the future.
Liminal space · Collection
Empty pools, endless grass hills and a home that isn't quite yours. Explore it location by location, from every angle.
Liminal space · Collection
Placeholder: the next level down. Its locations, angles and videos will appear here.
Liminal space · Collection
Placeholder: deeper still. Its locations, angles and videos will appear here.
Psychedelic · Style
Colour that moves like liquid: folding spectra, prisms and slow oil-slick drift.
Psychedelic · Style
Form, rhythm and texture with no subject at all: shapes left to speak for themselves.
Psychedelic · Style
Light caught in haze: neon bleeding through smoke, embers drifting, fog that glows from the inside.
Psychedelic · Style
Impossible geometry: tesseracts, rooms folded into themselves, space turned inside out.
04Modern Traces
Fire spinning and tribal fusion: flow, control and rhythm. Watch how I move, and if you want that movement in your project, let's talk.
Poi, staff, fans and hoop: flow arts with real flame, choreographed or freestyle.
Tribal fusion: isolations, shimmies, veil work and drum solos.
Work with me
Available for choreography, live performance and collaborations.
03Unseen Perspectives
Electronic and orchestral: deep dubstep, atmospheric chillstep and piano, released as VMAROK.
Opening pages
(CONTINUED)