Mr. Green Sweater Looks Normal, But His

His Were The Kind Of Eyes That Held Secrets. The Kind That Lied Without Flinching. The Kind That Once You Looked Into Them, It Was Hard To Break Away.

When I'm Wasted, I Can Almost Forget Who I Am," He Said, His Smile Fading Slightly. "i Know I'm Still There, But Only Barely. It's A Good Place To Be." He Tipped Back The Thermos, Eyes On The Dark Sea Straight Ahead

You Belong To The Biblical Race Of Nephilim. Your Real Father Was An Angel Who Fell From Heaven. You're Half Mortal." The Boy's Dark Eyes Lifted, Meeting Chauncey's. "half Fallen Angel." Chauncey's Tutor's Voice Drifted Up From The Recesses Of His Mind, Reading Passages From The Bible, Telling Of A Deviant Race Created When Angels Cast From Heaven Mated With Mortal Women. A Fearsome And Powerful Race. A Chill That Wasn't Entirely Revulsion Crept Through Chauncey. "who Are You?

Gosh, It Was Nice Talking To You, But I’ve Got A Lot Of Things I’d Rather Be Doing. Like Sticking My Hand In The Garbage Disposal.

The Subject’s Pulse Increased On Contact,” He Said. “don’t Write That.