InsaneJournal

Current mood:	artistic
Current music:	Outkast - I Like The Way You Move

New Project!
I'm working on another story. It doesn't have a title yet, and I'm in the process of drawing a title picture, so this could take a while. I was inspired by a dream I had, so only three scenes really stand out in my mind, and I'm building a story around that as I go along, so this could take a while.

But here's an excerpt for your enjoyment. ^_^

Zoanthropes, sometimes called wereanimals, are humans that can employ the physical attributes of animals. They are a biological mutation that has been around for thousands of years and little is known about them, however, it is clear that in this modern time, they abuse their powers and terrorize the human population. Hundreds of deaths each year are caused by these creatures attacking innocent humans. Thus, they are a species that must be contained and controlled, never to take another human life.

Normally, identifying them is relatively easy. Their hair color is that of their animal form's pelt, excluding camouflage patterns that animal may display, and their eyes are that of their animals' in color and pupil shape. Their body type is also similar to that of the animal into which they transform. For example, a zoanthrope with the animal form of a snake will have reticulated pupils, not a strand of hair on their body, will have thin, sharp eye teeth, and will be tall and lanky, seeming to be underweight.




"ZOANTHROPES ARE PEOPLE TOO!"

"WE HAVE RIGHTS!"

Kato Palti watched in cool detachment as the protestors and activists marched in small elliptical orbits on the sidewalk in front of his office building. With a soft sigh, he shook his head and turned away from the large sheet of glass that was his window and one of his walls.

Though he admired those people that marched nearly thirty feet below him, he knew their efforts were in vain. Zoanthropes were never going to be looked at as equals to humans. To the humans, zoanthropes were just animals, like Fido at home, or the lion in the zoo. They were treated like the women in the 1950s, like African-Americans in the 1960s and like the homosexuals in the 1980s.

Zoanthropes would always be feared, hated and discriminated against. His people rarely made above minimum wage and were always frowned upon. They were dirty, disgusting abominations. They were biological superiors to Homo sapiens, but they biological freaks to society. Zoanthropes lived in fear, hiding who and what they were.

And those who were brave enough to reveal their identity to the public were made to dearly regret it.

Kato knew this and accepted this. And he was grateful for every day he could go to work and spend the day as a normal human would. Filing papers, writing reports, sitting in board meetings and forming presentations were joys to him-for he knew that others weren't as fortunate-and he thanked whatever higher power there was every time he knew he could return to work the next day, every time he got his pay check.

He was blessed in that he didn't look like the other zoanthropes. His animal didn't have a pelt that would seem odd as a hair color, and his eyes weren't too unnatural looking in color or shape. His fangs were the only real indication that he was a zoanthrope, but he had learned to speak while hiding them, and still seem normal. He knew he was lucky; he was all too aware of it.

As he returned to his desk, the chanting from the street reached Kato's sensitive ears and he scowled. 'Those fools,' he thought to himself. 'Don't they realize they're just setting themselves up to get massacred? This is a restricted zone. The authorities will be here any moment to-'

Kato's thought was suddenly halted when the familiar high pitched screeching of sirens rang in his ears. He flinched slightly at the piercing sound that he was overly sensitive to as a zoanthrope and cringed when the sound of gunfire was heard. Screams from the fallen and wounded of his kind made his stomach churn. Placing his hand to his head, Kato closed his eyes, willing himself not to be sick.

This happened frequently and the fact that he hadn't grown used to it troubled Kato. However, he knew he'd be even more troubled if he *had* grown used to it. Zoanthropes really *were* people too. Those protesters weren't wrong. And their precious lives had been taken by humans. Zoanthropes had just been slaughtered on the street like a herd of cattle.

Emerald eyes landed on the glowing clock that hung on the wall. It was five 'o clock, quitting time. Kato shot up from his desk chair, shut down his computer and packed his brief case faster than he ever had before. His stomach was still knotting and flipping and it was a conscious effort for him not to fall to his knees and heave.

He'd never left work so quickly in his life.

>^_^<
Tyger