- Jun 10, 2007
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Name: Christy Jacobsen
Age: Sixteen
Apperance: Tall and very skinny, stands awkwardly hunched up, as if expecting an attack. Blonde haired and blue eyed, he has the look of being carved out of ice. Dressed in faded blue pyjamas and clutching a battered teddy bear.
Personality: Painfully reserved, never making eye contact. Never lies, but is too far into his own dream world to distinguish between fact and fantasy. Prone to occasional flashes of terrifying violence.
Bio: If Christy had ever been to a doctor they undoubtably would have diagnosed him as autistic. But Christy had never seen a doctor, because the aunt who took him in as a baby simply didnt hold with such measures. "The boy just needs a good smack, that'll wake him up" was the treatment, but nothing seemed to get to him. Christy simply sat and flapped his hand back and forth in front of his face, talking away to imaginary friends he called his faries. As a child this had been considered sweet and eccentric. But as the years wore on and Christy had turned into a tall, slender gawky sixteen year old, his aunt began to fear him, calling him a changeling or a demon.
One morning he simply didnt wake up. He lay in bed, dressed in faded blue pyjamas, clutching the battered teddybear hecalled Oli, stone dead. The doctor he had never seen would have also diagnosed the ruptured appendix which killed him.
Age: Sixteen
Apperance: Tall and very skinny, stands awkwardly hunched up, as if expecting an attack. Blonde haired and blue eyed, he has the look of being carved out of ice. Dressed in faded blue pyjamas and clutching a battered teddy bear.
Personality: Painfully reserved, never making eye contact. Never lies, but is too far into his own dream world to distinguish between fact and fantasy. Prone to occasional flashes of terrifying violence.
Bio: If Christy had ever been to a doctor they undoubtably would have diagnosed him as autistic. But Christy had never seen a doctor, because the aunt who took him in as a baby simply didnt hold with such measures. "The boy just needs a good smack, that'll wake him up" was the treatment, but nothing seemed to get to him. Christy simply sat and flapped his hand back and forth in front of his face, talking away to imaginary friends he called his faries. As a child this had been considered sweet and eccentric. But as the years wore on and Christy had turned into a tall, slender gawky sixteen year old, his aunt began to fear him, calling him a changeling or a demon.
One morning he simply didnt wake up. He lay in bed, dressed in faded blue pyjamas, clutching the battered teddybear hecalled Oli, stone dead. The doctor he had never seen would have also diagnosed the ruptured appendix which killed him.
