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They're Here. They're Our Kids

Author: Mark Andrews    (all articles by this author)
Published on: November 30, 2000

Indigo Eyes

In the Spring of '94, I was taking a leisurely stroll around the block when a 1+1/2 to 2 year old white-blond haired, fair skinned male child ran up to the fence separating his house from the sidewalk. He skillfully climbed the chain links to put himself as much at eye level with me as possible.

His eyes appeared almost cartoon-like in their size, depth, hue, and brilliance. The irises were dilated to the point that they overtook the whites like an over-sized (indigo) pancake on an ordinary paper plate.

Most striking of all was that his facial countenance remained without the slightest shift in expression. Considering the speed with which he ran to the fence, climbed, and locked eyes with me, you would normally expect that he would show some sort of elated emotion. He did not. He simply peered into my eyes as I peered back into his. His young mother laughed and called to him from along side the house. She scolded him for bothering me in such a "rude" way. She apologized to me for her son's intrusion. I smiled at her, not commenting on the highly potent psychic jolt to which I had just been subjected.

I walked on with as much nonchalance as I could gather. "He's a hybrid!", I realized. (The product of human / non-human cross-breeding by way of "abduction") "How could he know that I'm interested in off-world contacts?" At that point, I turned back just in time to see his mother grab him from his perch. His eyes were still on me. His expression; unyielding.

Within a few months, I encountered "him" again at a mall in another part of the city. My eyes first went to those phenomenal "alien" eyes as he sat emotionlessly in his stroller. His eyes gazed back. Some sort of acknowledgment was established between us. Surprised at the coincidence of seeing him and his mother so far from our neighborhood, I started to remark to her about the synchronicity when I abruptly realized that the young woman pushing the stroller was not the mother that I had met near my house.

This child was in every way identical to the first. The mothers, however, were different.

"He", again, crossed paths with me shortly there-after at a grocery store some distance from my home. The intelligence behind the eyes once more made trans-mental contact with me. He was being held by yet a different mother.

I'm sharing this with you as a testimonial to the attached page with the stories of the "psychic children of China" - "The Indigo Children" - and the "AIDS Children".

I may never again get the chance to get this whole matter off my chest as well as I can at this moment. "He" would be about 7 or 8 years old by now. How much do you want to wager that (now that I've written this) somehow - someway, "he" will cross my path again within the next few weeks?

I'll let you know.

The Real 'Flower Children':

Originally published in Project X Newsletter #49

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