The Troll Bridge

  

Part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge.  Photo prompt courtesy of Dawn M Miller

“Grandma, I need a piece of silver.”

Grandma looks down at Annabelle.   Pink ribbons flapping in the breeze fron her ponytail, little bits of sand and dirt on bottom of her poppy print dress.   Highly Sunday fashionable at 6.

“Now Annabelle, what do you need with a piece of silver? ”

“There’s a terrible ugly troll underunder the bridge.  He has Mr Cuddles…he will eat Mr Cuddles if I don’t give him a piece of silver.  Please, he just can’t eat Mr Cuddles.  He’s a mean troll.  I think he will eat him right away.  We got to hurry.   Come on grandma!” Annabelle is practically dancing and grabbing Grandma’s arm.

“Honey, we don’t carry silver any more.  That mean troll with just have to change his demands.  Annabelle, you have him come over and I’ll talk to him.”

Annabelle flys off to the stone bridge.  She crouches down by the drainage pipe.  Grandma sees her hands move as she talks.  Grandma remembers doing the same thing years ago.  Little girls and imagination.  

Suddenly, a dark figure appears in the pipe.  An ugly green-brown head. Pointed temples project sideways, black scraggly hair haphazardly attached to him, large brown teeth exposed from his mouth.  Annabelle is dragging him to her. In his other arm, a small white poodle.  Horror of a real  beast, coupled with the defense of a young girl.

“Now you leave us be!  That’s not your dog or ours either.  Annabelle, we as leaving. ..Right Now!”

Annabelle drops his arm. Mr cuddles bites the troll and follows Annabelle. Both run to Grandma, turning to look back at the troll.

“Mary Ellen Samples. You owe me two pieces of silver now.  I remember all little girls.  I’ll be here.  Sixty years from now too.

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