Nine Tailed

The Cheonji Monster is real,” I say in awe. “Bruh. Did you just call me a monster?” a deep, petulant voice grumbles in my head. Right, telepathy. “Not cool.” “Did you just call me bruh?

One of the windows shatters with enough force to tear down the blinds, saturating my place with muted light. I see a red figure standing in my living room at the same time I spot the daggers flying toward me. I leap onto the edge of the sink and hear the triple thud of knives slicing into the kitchen wall—to the hilt. I

And what is love? Love is hope. What is hope? Hope is life. What is life? Life is light.

Maybe I was all those things in the past," I agree as power hums through me. "But now... Can't I choose to be better? Can't I choose to be good?

Love makes fools of us all.

Having a near-death experience via weird-ass shit must make humans more open minded to weird-ass shit.

Nothing says I care better than giving up the last serving of food.

Besides, I wouldn’t mess with the Greeks. Their mythology is part of the US public school curriculum.

Once I finish, the kind attendants get to work on scrubbing a layer of skin off me, leaving my modesty in the dust. Feeling fresh, pink, and generally floppy, I step out of the tub and let myself be wrapped in a warm towel.