Worst Souvenir by Tim Law

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.

About the Author

 

 

Embracing the dark he knew not was within; writer Tim Law is discovering the twisted monster that is his true self. When not cramped behind an old laptop, fingers madly keeping pace with the twistedness of thought Tim tries to regain the light so his family knows not his secret.