I don't know what came over me, but I felt possessed and had to draw the entire Odyssey 2 Community Project Prologue Story in comic style. I hope everyone likes it.
If anyone is interested, I am available for freelance comic pages and commissions.
Thanks for viewing!
(Prologue Story below, written by Clive Barker)
This was the second time Paul had come to London.
The first time, he was seventeen. He'd stood in Victoria Station and felt more alive than he ever had in his life; back then, some woman had caught his eye and smiled. It was like the city had laid back and opened its legs for him. He'd felt welcomed by her. He'd even debated following the woman home and getting it on with her. But the etiquette was still new to him, so rather than risk looking foolish, he shifted himself in his underwear to get comfortable and went to his hostel instead.
Now, he was thirty, and there was no winking woman at the station, so he made his way straight to the Underground. It was very crowded. He got on the Piccadilly Line and sat down by a red-haired man in a brown bomber jacket.
After about a minute, the red-haired man moved his head in a peculiar way. Paul saw this out of the corner of his eye. The man's head was nodding small, fast nods. Paul didn't look straight at the man, but rather at his own feet. He was tired. Too tired to move, but in his periphery, he could see that the nods were getting bigger.
Paul glanced up, and saw the man's reflection in the window opposite. Against the reflection and the black tunnel wall Paul saw the man's head twisting about, and his limbs thrashing. He didn't know what to do. A woman on the seat opposite Paul was staring at him as though he was looking at the red-headed man judgmentally, and ought to be ashamed of himself. Paul felt his cheeks flare with embarrassment.
Somebody said, "He's having a fit."
The woman opposite said, "He's an epileptic!"
Paul turned to see that the man's eyeballs were rolled up under his lids. His skin was a ghastly sick-pink color. And then the epileptic redheaded man keeled over on to Paul's lap. Paul was now sitting there with this fully-grown man jerking and gnashing across him. God, he felt such an idiot.
Down the carriage, somebody had got up and was taking off his belt. What was this? An epileptic and an exhibitionist in one carriage. The guy was folding his belt on itself. He came down the carriage. The woman opposite got up.
"I'm going to put it between his teeth so he doesn't swallow his tongue," the man said to Paul. "Don't move, I'll deal with it.
Paul sat there under his weight of spasmodic flesh and bone thinking he wouldn't have been able to move even if he wanted to.
"Oh, thank God," said the woman. "It's not a bad fit."
There was no need for the belt. The redheaded man was coming around, the fit over almost as fast as he'd gone in to it. Paul wondered what the bad ones were like.
The people on the Underground were trying to get the redheaded man upright, but he wanted to stay lying down. He was clutching Paul's legs like they were his only serenity. But the woman managed to uncurl the fingers, and sit him upright.
"Are you alright now?" she said. The other guy was putting his belt back on.
"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay," the guy was saying.
He had his eyes closed. He looked ghastly. The train slowed as they approached the station. The redheaded man opened his eyes. He looked at the woman.
"Thank you," he said.
Paul felt like a shit for not being more useful. The guy was clearly feeling bad.
"Is this your stop?" said the woman.
"It doesn't matter," the redheaded man said. "I just want to get off."
"It's my stop," said Paul.
The train came into the station, and stopped. The guy got up.
"You okay?" asked Paul.
The guy didn't answer. They got off the train together.
"You want to get a cup of coffee or something?" said Paul. "I'll get you something if you like."
"No," said the redheaded man, and walked off into the crowd without looking once at Paul.
As welcomes went, it wasn't warm.
It wasn't until later, in his room, that Paul found the little vomit stain on his trousers...