Spring 1970 – When the Cuckoo Stretches Its Wings

“They are not children,” I said. “At least, they are not human children. They are the fledglings of beings from another world.”

Cyclone frowned. She said, “Like they’re Martians? Spacekids?”

I shook my head. “No. There are many worlds that exist alongside this one. Some of we interact with every day and simply do not notice because those interactions do not affect us in any significant way. Other worlds and the people that inhabit them require great effort to reach. And interaction with those worlds is often fatal for inhabitants of this one.”

Cyclone looked me up and down. She suddenly seemed unsure of herself. “Are you from another world?” she asked.