Love is a Finely Crafted Killing Machine

My twist is perfect, my swing—precise. Sparks splash off the concrete are but a prelude to the demon’s demise. Oni arcs through the air with a quiet swoosh. The demon lays lifeless below me. I kiss Oni gently, wipe the blood clean and sheath her.

My lover, my everything, has won this night.


Nicholas Forristal.