Thirteen

With the other hand, I pinch its tiny shirt and lift it at eye level. It was yelling and screaming like mad, swinging tiny fists at me.

"Let me go, you human!" the Imp squirmed.

I study the little thing—my first to see an Imp up close. It has the size of a toddler, stubby in length, with whole almond black eyes with no iris or pupil. The Imp has red skin, two little horns sticking out from the top of his hairless head. He resembles the cartoon character where your subconscious sits on one shoulder while an angel occupies the other.

The twins told me how naughty they are; pranking others is what they love to do. They can mimic voices and lure you away from the crowd, making your head go crazy. And this did a good job getting irritated and messing with my head.

I don't know how long he will keep wailing his fists in thin air, but I find him adorable. "I said let me go! How can a human catch me?"

"Hey, do I seem human to you?" I ask.

The Imp stopped swinging his little arms and stared at