This is my visual interpretation of Thor, the Norse god of thunder, warcraft and fertility amongst other things. Thor is the strongest of all the Norse gods, and he rides the skies with his wagon pulled

This is an illustration I made for my story Blame the Rebels over at Fictionspawn Monsters. It's a story about a monster attacking a city, while media is trying to twist the situation to their own advantage.

Tanker walked down the road, whistling the tune he had in his head, a new group called The Beats. He heard all the instruments, the vocal and the choir connected directly to his mind. He could see Milka’s

Another illustration of mine. The story is a Steemit exclusive. -It's coming this way! The machine came running up the hill. An impenetrable tank, armed with a huge drill in front. Destined to destroy

Growing up in Norway, I was always interested in Norse mythology. There was something about the human-like ways of the Norse gods, how they were both good and evil, and the monsters, like the demon wolf

Well, I've created a Monster. Again. This one started out just as an illustration, which is what I've been doing lately. I made a little story about it, too, which I published over at my site Fictionspawn

In the Valley of Redeem everybody owned a magic wand, created to do good. When you liked what someone had done, you could bless them with the wand. The wand created Redeem, a valuable substance only found

Not Spoiled by Water is a horror series I've recently published on my site Fictionspawn Monsters. It's a particularly dark, sinister and tragic family story. These are the illustrations and some sketches.

Welcome to Beastly Tales. Each has a message, a moral. All are meant to have an element of humour. Naturally, any names included do not depict real folk but are included as part of the joke. All rights

All work is my own. This story has nothing to do with Erwin Schrödinger’s actual dog, if he had one. Fido was looking towards the horizon. His dear owner would be back soon, he knew it. He always came

All work is my own Mr. Marelli sat in front of the mirror, staring into his own eyes glaring back at him. He had no idea how many times he had been sitting here, but it was many. Night after night, preparing

my sketch and watercolour for the day. And the uncropped version: As I have noticed of late that steemit seems to be less busy with people and I seem to also find it not as easy to be on I almost feel

(Read or listen to the story. All work is my own) Insane, man! Rad! Everybody was there. He did tricks they’d never seen, moves they hadn’t even heard of. He was a star now, they all adored him. Little

(All work is my own) He hated crows. He always had, ever since they put him up here in the midlle of the field. He had been standing here all his life, if his miserable existence deserved to be called

(All work is my own) -Stop the thief! Stop the thief! Rangon reacted fast. With lifted spear he jumped over the wagon between him and the stairs. In mid air he stabbed the thief in the throat. She fell

(Text, voice and illustrations are my own) The market was full of people, but no one even looked at him. He couldn’t even juggle more than four balls, and yet it was what he did best. They kept falling

(Text, voice and illustrations are my own) -Look! There’s something behind those trees! Torkey ran closer. -Careful! Sink and Rabe followed him through the bushes. It was a metal door, in the middle of

He wrote stories. He wrote every day, every night. He wrote about people who didn’t write their own, about people no one had written about. Unwritten tales screaming to be told. Everybody should have their

(All work is my own) Far, far away Timothy could see the blue sky meet the ground. He knew it was a long walk, but that was where he was going. He walked. The days became weeks. The weeks became months.

(Text, voice and illustrations are my own) Frank had a dream. A dream he'd been nurturing all his life, ever since he was a child. He wanted to bring the dead back to life. He mostly kept to himself up