Gerred Lee

…All those nice sounding platitudes about it being what was on the inside that mattered were all lies. It was the beginning of the end of his innocence as well as his introduction to the world of superficial distinctions that predetermined what and who you were. How many times had he looked at that mirror wishing only to be more black or more white? Instead, he was this unidentified bastard thing in between rendering him mostly unwelcome in either world.  Pg. 23

Vince turned toward the window. The kids were running around the yard without a care in the world. The way it was supposed to be. The way parents, and churches, and policemen were supposed to ensure it remained. He closed his eyes. That’s where they belonged. The vampires and ghosts, goatmen and cannibals, swamp monsters and grunches, and werewolves too. Contained behind closed eyelids and further protected by the cloak of bedspreads and parental hugs. And the moment dreams got too real. All a child had to do was close the book and open their eyes.