This has nothing to do with the post. I just wanted to share what happened yesterday. We slept in. The cats weren't happy with us, so they pea-ed on the floor. Rather than get angry and clean it up right away, I took a picture.

In my books, there's very little difference between humans and monsters. Obviously, they don't look like us, of course. A few can pass as human, like leprechauns and incubi, but there's still something a little "off" even with them.

For those who can't pass as human, they have to remain out of sight. The Board of Hidden Affairs requires it. It's the law. Gremlins and fairies and closet monsters and skunk apes–all spend their lives hidden away.

That's why they're called The Hidden, of course.

But when you get to know them, they're not so strange. They have the same problems. They have their own personality quirks and disorders. They experience love and loss, marriage and divorce, joy and sorrow.

They can be kind and thoughtful like Maurice, the closet monster, and Molly, the brownie. They can be irritating and rude, like Silas, the pooka. They can be thugs, like the Leprechaun Mafia, or psychotic killers, like Sebastian, the incubus.

In other words, they're just like us.

Because of the restrictions placed by the Board of Hidden Affairs, specifically the Division of Human/Hidden Interaction, humans don't know much about the creatures of the Hidden. At the risk of the Board's displeasure, I'd like to remedy that.

Each weekday, I'm going to share a fun fact about a particular Hidden creature. No, not here. Over on Twitter. If you're not following me there yet, I'm @rlnaquin.

Every month or so, I'll probably gather the facts together and post them here as a list. That way those of you who aren't on Twitter won't find yourself woefully uninformed about sea monsters and mothmen.

If you have a burning question about the home life of chupacabras, yearn to know how pygmy dragons find a mate, or ever wondered why skunk-apes smell so bad, feel free to shoot me an email or leave a comment.

Next time you're alone in the dark and hear a rustling in your walls, won't it be less frightening if you have a little knowledge about the creature living there and watching you? If you know he's allergic to cabbage, or that he prefers '80s ballads to hip-hop, won't that make him more like a roommate than a threat?

I'm here to help.

You're welcome.

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