For months I thought myself clever, keeping that kappa with his empty dish on the edge of my bathtub. Still as a statue without its magic, a permanent frown on its face. It was a souvenir of time overseas for me, and a punishment for the monster that had tried to pull me under.
I should have been more worried when my six-year-old nephew visiting for a sleepover stopped splashing in the tub. By the time I reacted, he was blue and unresponsive. The kappa, still as a statue, sat with its dish full and a smile on its face.
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alt="Disgruntled by Jonathan Tolstedt"
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