As you can well imagine, it must have been pretty fucking rough growing up with that ability. She can see the dead and take them through the other side. “Special wouldn’t even begin to cover it, my dear.”Charley is a Grim Reaper. He snorted as he pressed gingerly here and there, testing for broken bones and the like. But considering the source…”Ī weak grin spread across my face. “If it were anyone else, I’d say eyelids can’t be broken. “Is anything broken?” Uncle Bob’s voice had softened. They were mostly dead, but still.”Charley is special without being a special snowflake. “I whine more than a Goth with a blogging fetish. “God, all this sounds so awful when I say it out loud,” I complained. “Well, I was kind of kidnapped, though not really kidnapped so much as led away.”Ī hand shot to her mouth to squelch a gasp. A lot of inappropriate thoughts at the worst possible times. She's got such a great narrative voice - she is, dare I say it, a lot like me. I love white chocolate, I love Charley Davidson, and I am not ashamed. You either love it, or you think it's an abomination of nature. Charley Davidson is like white chocolate.
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