NaNoWriMo
Somewhere, in the depths of the human mind, lies the sense that there is more to things than they are witness to. Terrified of these things, they become closed off as a species to the possibility. Fear has driven them deep into the dark, and they pretend illumination with artificial lanterns of false truths and scientific theory. Yet the displaced masses remain, mingling with humanity or breaking away to run feral through the open fields where few dare to tread.
It is no sin to be displaced in this world, though Puritan minds may have convinced their families they needed to rid themselves of those who were different. Nor do the displaced always feel driven to punish humanity for the terrible things inflicted upon them. It is, quite simply, the nature of the displaced to feel comforted and reviled by these same humans whom they had grown up amongst.
What are these displaced? Creatures of myth and legend, appearing in this era as your average person with extraodinary complexity. A complexity that sometimes does not surface, but instead seems a subtle difference to those who encounter them. Sometimes, as a means to continue surviving, they so fully camoflague themselves as to be unrecognisable to others, mistaken as mere humans by their own fellows.
Some are parasitic, even symbiotic, living amongst men while working toward their agendas through them. Humanity would not be what it is now if not for the careful manipulations of the displaced. What would we know of the world, its marvels, if we had not pushed forward despite our fears to explore and invent and innovate?