Here goes the legend of Auntie Tigress. She hides sharp claws and fangs, and wears your mother’s face too well. In the dead of night, she lulls you to sleep with precious words. Hush now, sweet child, don’t cry. Your little fingers are safe with Auntie Tigress. Sleep now, dear one. When morning comes, your brother will still be alive, smiling and ready to play.

Here goes the legend of Aunt Tiger. In the dead of night, she knocks at your doorstep. Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat. She tricks you into opening the door, you silly girl, and eats your brother as he sleeps. Oh dear, oh dear! To save yourself, you throw a pot of boiling oil over Aunt Tiger’s head. Pop and sizzle. Beware the strangers, little one; they’re only out to hurt you.

Here goes the legend of Granny Tiger. For thousands of years, Granny Tiger sought to consume immeasurable Chi 氣 and ascend to a higher state of being. She knocks on your front door one night, goading you with sugary treats, though she forgets to hide the swishing tail at her back, striped in gorgeous black and gold. While your sisters sleep, you lure Granny Tiger to a tree and shower her in boiling water.

Here goes the legend of the Tiger Witch. After training for years, the Tiger Witch gains mastery of her spiritual powers and transforms into a great, celestial beast. She fights the armies that hunt her, knocking down their fortresses with her mighty roar, and protects the villages against attack. While your sisters sleep, you gaze out to the starry sky, waiting to catch a glimmer of a striped tiger’s tail.

Here goes the legend of Hó͘-ko͘-pô. In the dead of night, the soldiers knock at your doorstep. Rat-tat-tat, rat-tat-tat. They have just bombed the town and riddled your next-door neighbor’s house full of bullets. Oh, please no. To save yourself, you open the door and welcome the invaders into your home, where Hó͘-ko͘-pô sits waiting with fangs bared, claws out, and eyes fixed in a glowering stare. She leaps—rips them all to shreds, the soldiers with their useless weapons, and she boils their bones into soup stock, and cooks their flesh in hot oil, and sends a grand feast back to their cowering generals, all before the break of dawn. And when morning comes, Hó͘-ko͘-pô will wipe your tears away, good little girl, and give you a sugary treat too. Hó͘-ko͘-pô will say, don’t cry, dear child, don’t cry. You’ll be safe with me.