phillip ginn

He’s a lover and a fighter.

In a culture that exists only to hinder and cripple the artist - the only true class of people that enables inner peace and stability - Phillip Ginn endures the violence and hardship brought forth by merely being alive by no choice.

Born to parents in a small village of 500, Phillip grew up knowing only the love of a sheet of paper and a pencil, and the infatuation of the sword. Subjected to war by the Nation of Currency, his village forced all young men and women above the age of ten to learn the ways of combat - an honorable tradition amongs the elders, which holds the virtures of vigilance, patience, physical prowess, and spiritual awareness in high regard.

Sent to battle at the tender age of eleven, Phillip proved to be a genius with the sword, if not a bit reluctant. Killing was not in his nature. During his downtime between planned attacks, he would often seclude himself somewhere in the camp, to be with his first love: pencil and paper. He’d left many drawings behind him, thought to be lost forever (though current records indicate many have been found and sold for thousands of pennies).

As he got older, he found himself being unable to pick up the sword in preparation for battle, and deserted his village. Instead, searching online for a support group for others like him, he made his way to the inner city, where corruption was greater, but so was the comfort. Settling down in a beautiful looking ghetto, Phillip locked himself away in a second-story room, hunched over a table, drawing until his hands bled.

It has been 152 years since his desertion, and 19 years since he was last seen at his drawing table. No one knows of his whereabouts; his room remains as it once was, complete with blood stains on his drawing utensils. Oddly, the place is clean, as though it was tended to this morning.

As of 6*9*2005, a new illustration was left on his drawing table, though no sign of his presence was found in his room. The illustration was of a small young boy, perhaps the age of six, with short hair, chubby cheeks, and a scowl. A single word bubble came from the young boy’s mouth. The young boy said:

“Eat me.”