I don't have children. It's probably for the best — can you imagine what kind of twisted progeny I would create? From time to time I reflect on that decision, and wonder if I made the right choice.

And then I'm reminded of just how strange kids can be, particularly when they are imaginary. John Wyndham's Midwich Cuckoos looked normal enough, but weren't entirely of this world, and certainly didn't have our best intentions at heart. (The film version makes the abundantly clear.) And of course some kids are born with an innate tendency toward murder, like the classic Bad Seed. Then there's always Damien.

Now I hear about the Black Eyed Kids, evil children wandering the roadways looking to waylay kind-hearted adults. It's a good thing the New Age-y Indigo superchildren are being born to combat them.

I wonder why there's such a fascination with the potential for evil in kids? Perhaps it's because of the endless promise inherent in the young, and our adult knowledge of how easily that promise can fail, or go terribly wrong.