In Loving Memory: Midnight
Andy: These are some of the rare occasions that I have immortalized my late cat Midnight in art, he was taken from me in a vicious dog attack and I still have very vivid memories of that day. Thankfully I also have some wonderful memories of raising him from a kitten and we spent 10 years together.
By Andy
Midnight in Egypt [May 2025]
Midnight and the Raven [October 2025]
They say that once every hundred winters, beneath a sky sewn with auroras and silver runes, the veil thins enough for one midnight meeting. This is one such tale.
In the snow-drenched forest of Vetrhjarta, Winterheart, there lived a black cat unlike any other.
His name was whispered in ancient lullabies and scratched into barn doors by those who remembered: Midnight, the Watcher of Thresholds. He walked not only in shadow but between worlds, silent as breath and twice as knowing.
On one such night, under a full moon so luminous it cast dreams across the snow, Midnight returned. His paws made no sound as he padded to the Runestone Cradle, a ring of ancient stones pulsing with soft rune-glow.
Waiting on the central stone was a raven with eyes like bottled lightning and a beak stained with old secrets.
The raven tilted its head.
“Late again, feline.”
Midnight sat, tail curling around his paws, and blinked with supreme indifference. “You say that every time.”
The raven croaked a sigh and flapped his wings with dramatic flair. “Well, the moon’s not going to weave the memories itself. Shall we?”
With that, the pair turned their eyes to the sky. Above them, constellations shifted and danced, spilling down threads of glowing light. The runes shimmered, awakening from slumber.
Together, cat and raven wove the stories of those who had been forgotten, tales of fallen warriors, lost pets, broken-hearted lovers, and misfit souls who never found their ending.
The raven cawed softly, “This one’s heavy.”
Midnight pressed his nose gently to the floating thread. “Then we carry it together.”
All night they worked, scribing stories in the stars, chasing memories across frostbitten wind, their silhouettes cast in silver moonlight.
And when the dawn broke over the ice-laced trees, the aurora whispered their names:
Midnight and the Raven.
Keepers of the lost.
Tellers of the true.
And guardians of the space between goodbye and forever.
In the snow-drenched forest of Vetrhjarta, Winterheart, there lived a black cat unlike any other.
His name was whispered in ancient lullabies and scratched into barn doors by those who remembered: Midnight, the Watcher of Thresholds. He walked not only in shadow but between worlds, silent as breath and twice as knowing.
On one such night, under a full moon so luminous it cast dreams across the snow, Midnight returned. His paws made no sound as he padded to the Runestone Cradle, a ring of ancient stones pulsing with soft rune-glow.
Waiting on the central stone was a raven with eyes like bottled lightning and a beak stained with old secrets.
The raven tilted its head.
“Late again, feline.”
Midnight sat, tail curling around his paws, and blinked with supreme indifference. “You say that every time.”
The raven croaked a sigh and flapped his wings with dramatic flair. “Well, the moon’s not going to weave the memories itself. Shall we?”
With that, the pair turned their eyes to the sky. Above them, constellations shifted and danced, spilling down threads of glowing light. The runes shimmered, awakening from slumber.
Together, cat and raven wove the stories of those who had been forgotten, tales of fallen warriors, lost pets, broken-hearted lovers, and misfit souls who never found their ending.
The raven cawed softly, “This one’s heavy.”
Midnight pressed his nose gently to the floating thread. “Then we carry it together.”
All night they worked, scribing stories in the stars, chasing memories across frostbitten wind, their silhouettes cast in silver moonlight.
And when the dawn broke over the ice-laced trees, the aurora whispered their names:
Midnight and the Raven.
Keepers of the lost.
Tellers of the true.
And guardians of the space between goodbye and forever.
Double Trouble, Boil and Tummy Rumble [October 2025]
Made as a result of Fin and myself reminiscing about farting cats, so in true spirit of the season, two of our beloved cats have come back to haunt us, Shams and Midnight.
And of course naturally this is for my wonderful partner @FlameAndSong who has suffered through them as I have. This is for you my beloved with so much comfort from the remembered horrors.
And of course naturally this is for my wonderful partner @FlameAndSong who has suffered through them as I have. This is for you my beloved with so much comfort from the remembered horrors.
Beach Bastard [January 2026]
Forest Bastard [January 2026]
Beach Dicks (Midnight and Shams) [January 2026]
Forest Dicks (Midnight and Shams) [January 2026]
Travelling Watchers (Midnight and Shams) [March 2026]
By Fin
Andy with Midnight [October 2025]
I’ve wanted to create a tribute to Andy's late cat, Midnight, for a long time, and this felt like the perfect moment to honor their bond through art. This piece reimagines Andy holding him once more, bathed in the glow of a Druidic twilight where the veil between worlds shimmers like starlight and memory.
For Andy: You are the light within my darkness, and the calm that holds my storms. Midnight’s spirit walks beside you still — just on the other side of the rainbow haze.
For Andy: You are the light within my darkness, and the calm that holds my storms. Midnight’s spirit walks beside you still — just on the other side of the rainbow haze.
