Indigo

Indigo
A sleepy suburb is rocked when one of its children doesn’t come home. And not just any child. An Indigo child. Spiritual, intelligent, hypersensitive to surroundings, Indigos are here to change the world… or so say the members of the local support group.
Sid Adler is not so sure. Contracted to interview the children and their families, the part-time therapist, part-time neuropsychologist thinks there’s something even more dangerous than a child abductor lurking in the quiet town of Oak Hills, Illinois.

Indigo.

Her head was filled with the color. The smell of it. The feel of it. Smooth as glass. The taste. Like a flower just opening.

“Say it.”

“No.” Blaithe Clemons tried to smile as she felt a hard thud against her stomach. The pain shot through her torso and flew into her skull. She dug her fingers into the ground and tried to anchor herself in case she was dragged further. Blaithe smelled the last leaves of fall rotting on the ground. And cotton candy. Pink and sticky and sweet. Around her were clouds hanging in the air. Clouds in a long line stretching in front of her. Hours of the day. Days of the week. Weeks of the year. All stretching in a line of yellow clouds in front of her. All leading to this moment.

“Say it.”

“No. It’s a lie.” Blaithe swallowed and tasted blood.

“Say it and mean it.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Blaithe expected to feel a fist next. Or feet kicking her stomach. She expected every possible act of violence her young brain could conjure. Except what she got.

Cold, empty darkness.

And a brilliant flood of indigo.

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