Ange de la Mort

Thank you for your interest in the project, C3 and I are very grateful and honoured by your contribution and collaboration.

I am Jack Danya Kemplin, the current owner and Editor-in-Chief of C3: Collective Crow Comics. C3 is a fanfiction website that has existed since October 2000, specializing in The Crow comics created by fans.

We are currently in need of an Artist for a limited-colour 29 page one-shot comic book.

Because it will be fanfiction there will not be any pay for this, it will be out of love for The Crow comics, and for your portfolio and promotion of your name. C3 has previously had projects with now famous comic book creators such as Ben Templesmith.

I use 3 e-mail addresses, kemplin2@juno.com for small e-mails, jackkemplin@gmail.com for ones with large attachments, and collectivecrowcomics@gmail.com is technically the one these sorts of stories are normally submitted through, but submitting it through the jackkemplin one serves the same purpose.

The plot for Ange de la Mort:

In New Orleans, at the local college there is a student named Lillian Toussaint, the only child of a wealthy family. Her parents are friends with the even more wealthy Edwin family, who’s son is the school’s lead quarterback, and whom Lillian’s family is desperately pressuring her to marry. But while in college Lillian has secretly began a lesbian relationship with a butch woman named Veruka Dekay. Their relationship is cut short when the quarterback discovers the secret relationship and arranges for him and his teammates to lynch Veruka. After the killing, Lillian, who realizes who committed it and why, feels no choice but to do as her family wishes and marry him. Racked with guilt and despair, the morning after the honeymoon, Lillian hangs herself while he is in the shower. Unable to rest with the horrors which have been committed against Lillian and herself, Veruka returns to the land of the living, to haunt the football players.

If you are not familiar with The Crow mythos, here is a summary:

The Eternal Power of The Crow possesses the bodies of people who's souls cannot rest, using the blood of The Gorgon to bring them back to life. While reanimated that person has until the blood of The Gorgon runs out, to do something which brings their soul peace. If they do not find peace by the time the blood of The Gorgon runs out, then they lose their powers and begin to rot. The Crow is not a corporeal bird, but an ethereal one existing in the avatars' minds, and sometimes being visible to others. The avatar can hear The Crow speaking to them in English, and this condition of being dead, yet alive again, disturbs and deranges the avatars' minds, making them more poetic, more psychotic, and more sadistic.

Some The Crow comics which may help you better understand our comic:

Flesh And Blood (to become familiar with female avatars of The Crow)

http://thecrowcomics.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/the-crow-flesh-and-blood-1-1996/ The Crow: Flesh and Blood # 1

http://thecrowcomics.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/the-crow-flesh-and-blood-2-1996/ The Crow: Flesh and Blood # 2

http://thecrowcomics.wordpress.com/2012/02/23/the-crow-flesh-and-blood-3-1996/ The Crow: Flesh and Blood # 3

Concept:

               Trista Musco

Plot:

               Trista Musco and Jack Danya Kemplin

Writing:

               Jack Danya Kemplin

Artist:

(artist)

Lettering:

               (letterer)

C3: Collective Crow Comics

Editor:

Jack Danya Kemplin

The Crow™ © 2016 James O’Barr (under exclusive license to Top Dollar Comics, Inc and Crowvision, Inc.) The Crow™ and “THE CROW”, The Original Motion Picture © 1994 Crowvision, Inc. All rights reserved.

Any similarities between characters, names, and/or institutions, living or dead (or undead) is purely coincidental, but for instances of satire, and should not be inferred. This is a work of fanfiction, no part of it may ever be printed or sold without permission of Crowvision, Inc.

PAGE 1

PANEL 1:

A distant landscape of dense and wild southern swamp trees, amongst the gnarled branches hangs a barely noticeable silhouette of a human body dangled from a rope attached to one of the branches.

CAPTION

Southern trees bear a strange fruit

PANEL 2:

Close up of leaves splattered and dripping with blood.

CAPTION

Blood on the leaves

PANEL 3:

Close up of the large tree’s massive winding roots, blood dripping on them and pooling between them.

CAPTION

and blood at the root

PAGE 2

PANEL 1:

Mid-distance shot of the body swinging by it’s neck from the tree, it’s features still not completely visible.

CAPTION

Bodies swingin' in the Southern breeze

Strange fruit hangin' from the poplar trees

Pastoral scene of the gallant South

PANEL 2:

Close up, birds-eye view of Veruka’s face, her eyes bulging from the pressure of the noose around her neck, the whites of her eyes have turned to blood red as the vessels within them haemorrhage and burst, the blood running down her face like tears.

CAPTION

The bulgin' eyes and the twisted mouth

PANEL 3:

Her body hangs there as weeks turn into months, her flesh beginning to rot.

CAPTION

Scent of magnolias sweet and fresh

Then the sudden smell of rotting flesh

PAGE 3

PANEL 1:

The Crow lands on the shoulder of the rotting, hanging body.

CAPTION

Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck

PANEL 2:

The Crow stays perched on her shoulder as time continues to pass, lightning flashing as torrents of rain fall, the body swinging in the cold wind.

CAPTION

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck

PANEL 3:

The sun now beats down on the body as it is almost done rotting, what leathery skin it has left stretches across the haunting face, its blood tears still visible. The Crow remains at its boney post.

CAPTION

For the sun to rot

PANEL 4:

Close up: The now heavily weathered rope barely holding onto the corpse.

PANEL 5:

The rope snaps, the body falling through the air, towards the ground. The Crow, seemingly shocked by the sudden loss of its perch, taking wing in the exact spot where it once sat.

CAPTION

for the tree to drop

PANEL 6:

Mid-distance: Veruka’s semi-skeletal body lays on the ground in the shadow of the ancient trees, The Crow circling above it.

CAPTION

Here is a strange and bitter crop

PAGE 4

PANEL 1 TOP BORDER:

An EKG pulse line passes over entire the page, one pulse detected, and in the space of the peak is an image of Lillian.

PANEL 1:

Worm’s Perspective: Close up on Veruka’s face, her decayed corpse lays on the ground below the tree, The Crow circling over head.

PANEL 1 BOTTOM BORDER:

A second EKG pulse line, another pulse later on the line, in the space of the peak Veruka and Lillian embracing, Lillian looking passionately up into Veruka’s eyes.

PANEL 2 - 1ST INNER PANEL:

A bolt of electricity cuts horizontal-diagonal across the page, along the way it forms a panel displaying a memory: Dark, close-up of a nude, beaten Veruka, one man kicking her in the stomach while the other one slips a noose over her head.

MARK

Dyke!

SFX (kick)

Kak

VERUKA

Uumpf

EDWIN

Lilly’s mine, you wife-stealing bull-bitch!

SFX (Rope)

Shliipp

PANEL 2 - 2ND INNER PANEL:

The winding bolt of electricity branches out into a second panel displaying another memory: Dark, birds-eye-perspective from up in the tree, close-up on Veruka’s panicked, struggling face, her hands frantically tugging at the tightening rope around her neck, her body flaying as it is hoisted up the tree, the silhouette of two men pulling on the rope below.

VERUKA

}gasp{

Please

}gasp gasp{

PANEL 2 - 3RD INNER PANEL:

The bolt branches into a third memory panel: Dark, birds-eye-perspective from the tree, extreme close-up on Veruka’s face, pulled taunt in its struggles, her eyes bulging from the pressure, her hands desperately grasping the ever-constricting rope at her neck.

VERUKA

}gasp gasp gasp{

PANEL 2 - 4TH INNER PANEL:

The bolt branches into a fourth memory panel: Same as previous, but now Veruka’s eyes have exploded from the pressure, their blood flowing down from their sockets, forming into dark tears. Her hands have fallen to her sides, her mouth hangs open, she is dead. Below the silhouetted men grin.

EDWIN

That’s what your kind gets

MARK

T’was good n’ tight pussy though, bet it never had a dick ‘til ours

PANEL 2 - BACKGROUND PANEL:

Same as Panel 1, except now the body of Veruka which lays on the ground, has been restored to how it was in life, with the exception of the blood tears which still trace their path down her cheeks, and the whites of her eyes which are stained red with blood, making her silver-grey irises look ghostly.

PAGE 5

PANEL 1:

Electric bordered memory: Veruka protectively embraces Lillian, comforting her, as Lillian, in tears and with a deeply worried face, talks to Veruka.

LILLIAN

He won’t stop until he has me.

Veruka, I am so scared Edwin is going to find out about us.

PANEL 2

The electric border branches into another panel: This panel is identical to the panel “Page 4 Panel 2 - 3rd Inner Panel”. Below this panel is another EKG pulse line running horizontally across the page, indicating another strong heart beat.

PANEL 3:

Veruka’s restored corpse surges with life! It rolls on the ground, gasping for breath, and not realising how much time has passed, her hands shoot up to her throat, frantically tugging at the rope around her neck-

VERUKA

}gasp gasp gasp{

PANEL 4:

-but now the weathered and broken rope crumbles at her tearing grasp and falls away; Veruka rushing to breathe, her lungs taking in air for the first time in a year.

VERUKA

}heew heew{

PANEL 5:

Veruka lifts her head in agony, One of her arms reaching forward, her hand grasping the dirt beneath it, as she mournfully mouns-

VERUKA

Lillian

PAGE 6

PANEL 1:

First-person-perspective: Veruka’s hand brushes aside a bush, revealing The Crow flying in a full moon lit night sky, hovering over a grand, well kept, yet unlit, mansion. A large trellis, covered in creeping vines, runs up the side of the building to a bedroom window balcony on the second floor.

VERUKA (Whispering)

Lilly, please don’t worry about me

PANEL 2:

Normal/Third-person perspective: Veruka’s naked body climbs up the trellis towards the balcony, the railing of which The Crow sits on.

PANEL 3:

Profile-view: Veruka has made it the top, her arm in the foreground laying across the railing, grasping it as she struggles to pull herself up, the other reaching out towards the window; The Crow perched on the railing on the other side of her.

PANEL 4:

Now on the balcony, Veruka opens the glass French doors that lead to the bedroom; The Crow flying in.

VERUKA

Lillian?

PAGE 7

PANEL 1:

Veruka walks into the dark room. Everything looks overly neat, put in its place, spotless, like some sort of exhibit, unlived in; the bed-covers lie flat, perfectly squared without a wrinkle. The Crow stands perched on the canniped bed post.

VERUKA

Lillian, are you asleep?

PANEL 2:

Veruka lays her palm upon the bedspread, her face filling with concern in realising that Lillian isn’t there.

VERUKA

Lilly?

PANEL 3:

Veruka rotates the knob which turns on the lights, illuminating the dark room to reveal its sterile, presentation-like state; Veruka stares in bewilderment, her concern not diminishing.

VERUKA

What?

Why’s her room look so...unlived in?

PANEL 4:

Veruka sits on Lillian’s bed. Next to the bed, against the wall, is a nightstand, on which sits a book with a latchet and a heart shaped lock.

VERUKA

Lilly, where are you?

PAGE 8

PANEL 1:

Veruka notices the book; The Crow standing next to it on the nightstand.

THE CROW

Something worth reading?

PANEL 2:

First-person-perspective: She picks the book up, focusing on its heart shaped lock.

PANEL 3:

Third-Person-Perspective, Close up: With her other hand, Veruka touches the heart-crowned key which hangs between her breasts.

PANEL 4:

Lillian, blushing and nervous with romantic butterflies fluttering within her, holds out a heart-topped key to Veruka.

LILLIAN

Veruka, I want to give you this,

It’s the key to my heart.

PANEL 5:

Close up: Grasping the key, Veruka pulls on it, breaking the fine chain.

VERUKA

The key to your heart

PAGE 9

PANEL 1:

Close up: Veruka inserts the key into the lock

SFX (Key)

Shlick

PANEL 2:

Close up: She turns the key, the lock springing open.

SFX (Lock)

Click

PANEL 3:

Veruka opens the book.

PANEL #:

Birds-eye-View - Close up: The book lies open, flat across her naked thighs, her left hand resting on the bottom of the left page, her right hand across the top of the other. On the pages are words written in beautiful feminine cursive from a red pen, each lower case “i” dotted with a heart.

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July 16, 2001

I am excited to be going to college, to a new school, to meet new people, and learn new things...But I also don’t see why my parents are even letting me attend, I guess it is just another thing for them to brag about, about how their “Little Lilly” is a “College educated woman”, even though they will only be happy with me being a trophy wife to some rich man, never destined to work a day for myself, never to make my own name in the world, never to walk my own path, but forced to further theirs.

August 20, 2001

Today was the first day of school; the classes went well, and I really enjoyed meeting my professors. Leave it to my parents to make sure that I have as many classes with Edwin as possible. Edwin, the boy who from my earliest years our parents have been pushing us to get married, playing with us like their little dolls; and Edwin, always thinking he owned me, that I was his “Little wife”, that he had some claim over me as promised to him by his parents!

August 23, 2001

Typical! Edwin couldn’t even go a week without threatening someone over me! I was just chatting with some guy in class before the lecture began, and Edwin walks in, sees us talking, and runs over, all puffed up, yelling and pushing the guy! Damn it!! Can’t I even talk to people without him getting in their faces, beating them up, and yelling at me?! Edwin Goldman disgusts me, and I will never marry him!

August 30, 2001

Of course Edwin got picked for lead quarterback, and he’s been bragging about it all day. I don’t know why things like that even matter to him, it’s not like it’s going to be his career, he is going to go into the family business, but I guess a man has to look like a man...makes me sick! They have to beat up one another to feel good about themselves...Well the team can have him, I want nothing to do with any of them!

October 28, 2001

Last night was the Halloween Social at school,

The story of Lillian's family, of her relationship with Veruka, of the murder, the forced marriage, and the suicide is revealed when Veruka reads Lillian's diary, which Lillian continued to write in until moments before her death, even detailing what she was going to do and why.

Lillian hangs herself with her wedding veil the morning after her wedding, to symbolise how he raped, hanged, and killed her, just as he had literally done to her beloved Veruka.

END OF SCRIPT

My Mirror Does Not Define Me

By Kyler Prescott

A 14 year old trans-man who committed suicide after being bullied.

My mirror does not define me:

Not the stranger that looks back at me

Not the smooth face that belongs to someone else

Not the eyes that gleam with sadness

When I look for him and can only see her.

My body does not define me:

Not the slim shoulders that will not change

Not the hips that give me away

Not the chest I can’t stand to look at

When I look for him and can only see her.

My clothes do not define me:

Not the shirt and the jeans

That would look so perfect on him

But that I know would never fit me

When I look for him and can only find her.

And I’ve been looking for him for years,

But I seem to grow farther away from him

With each passing day.

He’s trapped inside this body,

Wrapped in society’s chains

That keep him from escaping.

But one day I will break those chains.

One day I will set him free.

And I’ll finally look in the mirror

And see me--

The boy I was always meant to be.

WILLA 1993-2016

By William Lavinia

It is several months before July 20th, 1993. The nurse has called to tell my mother over the phone that she is having a son.

My mum is effusive, she mentions her husband has previously only had daughters.

Then nurse pauses, and tells my mother to hold.

When she returns to the line, she says:

I'm so sorry, that was my mistake,

the test shows you are having a daughter.

That baby's name was Willa.

She was born two months early and kept in Sick Kids Hospital for a month.

She weighed 3lbs 12oz.

Willa could never quite understand why she disliked pink.

She couldn't tell you why she made her mother cut the bows off her clothing or why she despised the word 'actress'.

Willa liked boys. She was right on track for girlhood.

Willa like Disney princesses and dress-up.

Her favourite Disney princess was Hercules.

Her favourite song was I Can Go the Distance.

Willa lost herself in theatre, where you could find her most often cast as every little boy in famous theatre cannon.

She was always good at playing boys.

Willa called herself a collection of characters.

Willa spent a lot of time alone.

Willa went through estrogen puberty.

Willa was a 34C.

Willa wore Revlon No 740 "Certainly Red" lipstick.

Willa wore high heels everyday and bleached her hair.

Willa's bra and underwear always matched.

Willa was a doll I dressed.

She gave me confidence and grace and protection.

One summer, the most important theatre director in my life told Willa that she was wearing a mask.

When Willa was 18, she moved to Canada.

Willa liked girls.

Willa could no longer wear heels everywhere.

Her sense of identity began to fracture.

She cried when she tried to read about sapphic sex.

Willa still loved the way she looked in nude pictures.

Willa couldn't have her breasts touched.

Kink brought Willa new options, new words, new head spaces.

Non-binary Identity gave her an anchor and guide as she became they.

We were no one then.

William was a very dark door in my brain, and I didn't have the neural connections to know what was behind it.

but time passed, and one day, I did.

As if someone had shown me the other side of a quarter I'd been carrying around my whole life:

What if, I wasn't a masculine woman?

What if, I was a feminine man?

What if, I was a drag queen?

I began to see myself. William's door was finally unlocked.

On a day in 2016, at no particular time or place, Willa's name was manifested for the last time.

and I became Will.

I think we killed her when I shaved my head.

The next day, I went under the knife.

I sacrificed the source of much of her power, for the rebirth of a real boy.

I am only 1 1/2 years old.

On October 26, 2018, Willa came back from the dead. She goes by Archie Maples now.

and on April 20th, 2019, while listening to music from my girlhood, every part of me came together to lay her to rest for good. In blood and ink.

She is part of my story. She taught me much. She made me a better man. I wouldn't trade my time as her for anything.

Though female assignment has caused me hardship, without her, I wouldn't be the creature I am today. My mutant self.

Today I am thankful for my womanhood, which is still a part of my non-binary self. I am thankful for all the moon blood I shed, for the intimate understanding of my femme identity, for my hips, for late night women's washrooms, for a childhood that gave me permission to be soft.

Today I am thankful for Willa. May she Rest in Peace.

July 20th 2019

By William Lavinia

Today I am twenty-six years old, yet I am also turning two. I have only been celebrating William's birthday for two years. Everything is different now, we didn't just start a new chapter, we're writing a whole new playbook.

Last year I felt like an egg. Brand new, freshly shorn, lost in testosterone sauce. Then my hair began to grow back, and my face began to sharpen. My sense of identity began to sharpen along with it.

I can see it, the way people are beginning to react to me differently. I've seen several sparks in cis-men's eyes these last few months, like they were actually seeing me as a queer boy for the first time.

I feel positive about coming into my masculine form, positive that my 'boy' headspace is beginning to match my idea of my 'boy' body.

I also feel complicated by it. For I am not always a 'boy'. I am a femme too. We live in symbiosis together.

I am more than most can hold. I am small, I am strong, I am romantic, my Venus is in Gemini. I am a sadist, I am a service sub. My nails are sharp, my toes are shellacked, my pussy is fat, my cock is small and juicy.

I've had it with trying to hide any part of me, and I will not apologise for my sexual, queer, trans life, I will share all of it! If it in any way makes room for any of my beautiful trans siblings, I will gladly put myself on display.

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