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Landon Erp's picture
Submitted by Landon Erp on Sat, 2006-06-10 22:21

This is a writing sample featuring Raven from my comic project Frontier War. She is a young woman working as a stripper with the power to comunicate with and transform into any type of animal, as well as keep a few animalistic traits at all times

Sometimes when I come home from the club I can't get to sleep. I shower off the sweat (my own and others'), the grit the smoke and on the nights I don't bring someone home I lay on my soft sheets and try to sleep... It doesn't come. My mom wound up as a stripper, I keep promising myself I'm not going any further than being one. There are nights it's great and there are nights I want to just go feral and just rip every human in the world to shreds.

Some nights at this point I just turn into a bird or a wolf and just go out and clear my head. Tonight I'm too distracted.

I just visited mom at the hospital. She's sick as hell. It's been months since the last time she went in... I'm affraid this time she won't come out alive.

I know how she got there, I keep trying to convince myself it happened before I could do anything. Sometimes it just seems like if I'd pushed a little harder a little sooner she'd have dodged that bullet.

But that's just the risk when you're a hooker who used protection "most of the time." You have daughters. You get diseases.

I did what I could anyway. I was 14 at the time. My powers surfaced in early childhood. Since I grew up in a rough environment I learned how to keep secrets young. Mom was the only one who knew.

After years of getting the crap pounded out of her by her "protection" it occured to her that I'd be better insurance.

I don't really blame her, honestly I don't. I was ten at the time. She'd been as honest as she could with me my whole life. No Santa, No Easter Bunny, No Tooth Fairy and the hard reality that mom gave it up to strangers to pay the bills.

It sounds harsh. To this day I respect her for it.

When she was off work she was the greatest mom you could hope for... She tried to keep me sheltered from her work. After a while she found out that everyone else she knew didn't have as high of standards for raising children as she did... It was a trade off she couldn't avoid anymore. Expose me to more than she'd been comfortable with up until that point and have her shapeshifter daughter for protection. Or risk her life with pimps and watch me fall further into corruption and danger than she ever thought of going herself.

I knew what it meant and accpeted. I just wanted her to be safe.

It worked out fairly well for about 4 years. She brought her tricks back to the appartment... I walked around as a rottweiler or something equally threatening (I had a thing for showing up as a wildcat for a while). Usually just walking past the bedroom door and eyeing her John was enough to keep her safe. Worst case scenario was usually a clawing or a bite. That's all it took to stop the guy. Until one night my mom got sloppy.

I came home from school one night to an empty appartment. She usually had a signal for me to tell me she was with a customer. I changed into my pj's and started studying.

I heard her stumble in with a John. His words were angerly coughed out of an esophagous ravaged by tobacco and alcohol. I could smell both of them on him through the closed door. He barked orders at mom as she offered the prerequisite screams and ego boosting.

After some banging around against the walls it quieted down. I thought he'd left. I just walked into the living room in human form, you know like I owned the place.

At 14 I was starting to develop... I had breasts and some light curves. The way where you can pass for whatever fantasy the guy has. Just old enough to legaly ravage, or a sweet innocent brainless lolita that can be manipulated into doing anything you want if you make a game out of it. If he's decent he stops when he realizes the first isn't true. The rest of the time he just seemlessly shifts from one to the other.

He thought you were fair game when he saw you so now he doesn't care that you're younger than his daughter.

I saw the bedroom... mom was bleeding and unconscious on the bed. The other doors in the apartment weren't touched.

He came into the living room wearing his boxers... and licking his lips. I couldn't tell how much was fat and how much was muscle.

He grabbed me close. He stunk of bourbon, sweat and blood. A blowtorch whispered some obscene things into my ear... I asked what he did to my mom. He just laughed this disgusting laugh and pulled at my shirt.

It's still stained with his stench today, nine years later.

I felt my strength pulsing through my arms. It stagnates somewhere between the level of a bear and a gorilla. I tossed the bastard 20 feet across the room. He broke through the drywall.

I lept across the room onto his chest. At this point I was morphing. My claws and fangs were out. I pounded his face until it looked like spoiled hamburger. I started ripping through the top layers of skin and muscle in his chest. I made sure he was conscious enough to hear the threat on his life if he ever came back.

I made sure he was just strong enough to walk out of the building... maybe make it to the hospital, maybe collapse a mile or so down the road. I didn't really care.

He ran out screaming and clutching his wounds. I never saw him again.

I boiled some water and found some towels, rubbing alcohol and butterfly strips. I started cleaning and patching her cuts up.

When she came to I tossed the want ads onto her prone body.

"I'm not going to let this happen to you again. Get another job mom!"


( categories: )

art vs propaganda

Landon Erp's picture

The reason I like the super-hero genre is because the fantastical elements lead to a higher level of abstraction. By pushing something through the filter of elements which do not exist in the real world you can gain a new perspective on things which do.

And can you explain what this sentance actually means?:

"What would have been wrong with discusing prostitution as an adult,why did you have to become a comic?"

It's just straight bad grammar.

But you missed the point, I'm not trying to "make a point" about prostitution. I'm developing a character, this is a factor in her development, this doesn't reflect my views on prostitution... IT WAS NOT EVEN AN ATTEMPT TO DO SO! Any more so than an episode of the old sitcom "Murphy Brown" was a study of the effect of news media on public opinion and the subconscious of the public.

A work of fiction is an end in itself, it is not the means to some "message."


Inking is sexy.


Rex, Rex, Rex...

Victor Pross's picture

You curmudgeon. Smiling

Fantasy Land

Rex Wilkinson's picture

Landon me old mate what a load of fluff.I'm not surprised when you actualy get around to trying to say something you resort to fantasy to make a point.What would have been wrong with discusing prostitution as an adult,why did you have to become a comic?

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