My Bonnie fled over the ocean. I followed them out to the sea.

My Bonnie ran fast when they saw me.

Dear Bonnie, oh, why would it be?

My Bonnie thought I wouldn't notice.

My body was wrong as you see.

Now, Bonnie lies under the ocean,

and I swillowed by the sea.

Listen to spooked.

Stay tuned. I've never met my grandfather, and I don't know much about him except that after he was killed.

It turned out that his family, his wife, my grandmother, his daughter, my mother, and her eight siblings.

This family was not his only family.

There's another secret family with numerous children and ten folk as well,

a secret family that a surprising number of people somehow knew all about.

And as a child, I learned, I was taught this other family, that those people were bad people.

To be hated, to be feared, because every branch of the tree touched by sin bears the taint of that sin, illegitimate heirs to my grandfather's sterling legacy.

Usurpers.

And I saw them.

The other kids sometimes blinking angry eyes at me as I stared right back over at them.

All of us with the same roundy heads, the same slope of the nostrils,

the same gap between their front teeth as there is between mine,

the same red running through our veins.

And it's all well and good to hate the neighbors down the street, the people in some

...