Tag Archives: creature

“Oscar the Emasculated Troll”

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A friendly, big and warm-hearted fuzzy creature lived amongst the woods. He had very bold features with one big watery eye, a big nose, and a big friendly smile. He was very large in size, with a stumpy block-like body and stumpy wide hairy feet. Sometimes you may find his pants on his short arms and his shirt on his feet. He was oftentimes clumsy to say the least. He was nothing from a typical troll, and his name was Oscar.

In a far away forest laid a town name Leonid, and northern to that was a little stream where the townsmen were forbidden to go. Beside that little stream was where Oscar called home. His home was a little cave Oscar had built himself. He made it by how his grandpa had taught him; it was a very sturdy home. Oscar even made a mat on his doorsteps that said “Welcome, Please Knock”, hoping one day he would have company. For lunch and dinner he would run to the little stream and try to catch fishes, and then he’d set up a fire and cook it.

In the little town of Leonid, lived a little girl named Anna. She was very curious, and often times too curious for her own good. One night, the children were gathered around the fireplace where Grandma Alemo spookingly spoke “when dawn drops, Oscar comes out to town while you are all sleeping, and looks for the children who isn’t sleeping and…” All the children were spooked and frightened, except for Anna. “and eats them!” This intrigued Anna. Anna put her little cape on, got in her little red shoes, grabbed the basket in disguise, and off she went.

Oscar heard a little girl’s voice one sunny afternoon. Oscar slowly got out of his wooden chair where he was initially sun bathing, and jumped up right away to grab his wooden stick and ran towards his home. Oscar laid flat on his back, very still and silent as he hid behind in the corner in the dark. As Oscar was running away, Anna from afar saw the trolls escape. Anna followed and found a little cave with a “Welcome, Please Knock” mat. Unfortunately, there was no door to the cave but being polite she knocked then walked in. As she entered, she walked into the troll head on without knowing because he was so big in size. Oscar having never had company was a little frightened, shocked, but felt a little warmth inside of him. Because of the big fall, Anna felt a little light headed and decided to take a nap. She found a big fuzzy surface and jumped on top. Little did she know, Anna took a nap right on the troll’s belly. Oscar knowingly, stayed very still to not disrupt the little girl.

As dawn started to fall, the townsmen were sent out to look for Anna. They walked past the talking trees and followed her small footsteps and tracked her tracks. As the townsmen were tracking the tracks it lead them to the Oscar’s home. When they approached it, they noticed it was the home of the folktale troll’s home they heard growing up. Frightened, one man led the others and entered the home. As they entered, they saw the a little girl sleeping on the troll. One townsman grabbed little Anna, and together ran all they way back to Leonid.

This was the only glimpse of warmth Oscar got in his lifetime. For the rest of time, Oscar lived a lonely life by himself next to the stream. He was never bothered nor made any trouble. That was the last time Oscar seen little Anna. Anna knew from then on, the tales of Oscar the One-Eyed Scary Troll, were false but she was forbidden to go back and was kept an watchful eye. Anna hoped one day she would be able to go back near the stream, to meet Oscar again.

—MT

“Paspir Forest”

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In the Paspir Forest, there once lived a community of trolls. They were peaceful beings and lived happily in nature and the forest thrived. But then the humans arrived, and they did not like the trolls. They hunted them, mounting their heads atop their fireplaces. Finally, the humans chased the trolls deep into the forest and they continued to hunt them for sport. The trolls feared the humans, but not young Snorky. Instead, Snorky would often wonder why the two communities could not live amongst each other in harmony. He longed for the day when this dream would become a reality.

One day, while Snorky was out looking for some fresh termites to add to the morning oatmeal, he stumbled upon something most alarming. It was a little boy. A human boy! And he was trapped in one of the human’s troll snares. The poor, pathetic looking creature was so tiny! Hardly four feet tall, with skinny arms, tiny ears and nose, and not a single hair on his flat belly! He did not look at all like Snorky, who already at fourteen stood eight feet tall, with his long, lanky arms and thick forearms, large ears and bulbous nose, and proud, extended belly, covered in a thick, luscious coat of grey hair. Snorky was already very handsome in his young age. But this boy was simply revolting to even look at. Nevertheless, Snorky dropped his handful of termites and walked up to the boy.

“Please help me!” cried the teary-eyed little imp, “Please don’t eat me! I’m just a little boy!”
Confused by this, but feeling sorry for the poor creature, Snorky untied him. The little boy thanked him greatly.

“I won’t forget this, Mr. Troll! You are much kinder than what I have been told!” And with that, he ran back towards the human village.

Snorky too returned to his own village, contemplating what the boy had said to him, but no sooner had he returned when a horde of humans came rushing into the village. The trolls were stunned, never before had the humans ever come directly to their village. This was surely the end for them.

Atop the tallest horse was a tall, brutish-looking man and sitting behind him was the little boy Snorky had saved.

“That’s him, Daddy!” the little boy exclaimed, pointing at Snorky.

“You there!” called the man to Snorky, “Speak your name, creature.”

“My name is Snorky,” he answered without the faintest quiver in his voice.

“I am the leader of the human village,” the man announced importantly, “and this boy is my son. He says you saved his life and I intend to repay you. You may ask for one wish and I will see to it that you will be repaid. So what will it be, creature? Gold? New born infants?”

“I am afraid I have no use for either of those things, sir,” Snorky answered, “but there is something that I wish to ask of you.”

“Name it, creature.”

“I wish that the humans would not hunt the trolls anymore,” Snorky said bravely. “We do not deserve to be hunted like animals. I believe that it is possible for us all to live together in peace and harmony.”

The man thought about this for a while before answering. “You have surprised me twice today, troll. First you save my boy, and then you ask for peace. This is not what we have come to expect from trolls.”

“What was it that you expected?” Snorky asked. “We have never harmed humans. We are a peaceful folk.”

“I see,” said the man. “Perhaps our ideas of trolls are not all correct. I will grant you your wish of ceasing the hunts, but I cannot guarantee you peace. Our people have come to fear trolls. Our ancestors depicted you as monsters that must be regularly hunted to deter you from coming too close to our village. If this is not true, then you must show us, but it will take time.” And with that, the man kicked his horse and the horde rode off.

The trolls were still stunned, but Snorky could not have been happier. He had a feeling that today would be forever remembered as the start of something new and amazing. He had the utmost confidence that he was well on his way to making his dream come true.

—E.D. Mayo

“Fergus Forest Troll”

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The tale of Fergus forest troll, is a fearsome one. A mere mention of his name has rendered even the most brave and bold into cowards and fools.

A vicious, heartless creature is Fergus forest troll. With great sharp teeth, beastly eyes and gnarled limbs adorned in tangled thorns. A great many men, sheep, women, goats, babies, cows and perfectly good rose bushes have fallen victim to the wretched wrongs of Fergus forest troll. Though none have spied him for generations, his tale still haunts the villages near the Great forest.

A young girl, Flora, once lived in a village to the east of the Great forest. Tales of Fergus forest troll, hung around the schoolyard as they had for years and years. But none were so brave enough to explore beyond the village wall to sneak a glimpse of the mangled, malicious, dark and deadly Fergus. To Flora, fearsome Fergus was fiction, a fraud, and nothing to halt a fair flower picking over. So, one Tuesday mid-morning, Flora ventured through the village fields, over the village wall, and into the Great forest.

It was just as she was picking precious pink peonies that she spied, just beyond a small stream, a quaint creature, a dumpling of sorts, with squat legs and the floppiest of ears atop terribly pinch-able cheeks. She failed to see him before, what with his mossy coat sprouting dainty buds of dandelions and his marbled grey stone skin. A suitable amount of pleasantries and delightful, yet slightly awkward small talk was exchanged before at last the tiny troll introduced himself as Fergus XIV, the youngest Fergus in the Fjergusson clan. Flora did not wish to be rude, however, she politely proposed that he positively could not be the Fergus forest troll, of the hateful and horrid Fergus forest troll tales.

Alas, he was not, that terrible title belonged to his great grandfather, a rancid reputation which Fergus relentlessly rejects. The fearsome family of Fjergusson had long passed, leaving Fergus to his lonesome, quiet hobbies of stone skipping, flower foraging and wood whittling. Centuries of solo soul searching had made Fergus Fjergusson quite the crafty troll.

Following a lovely lunch of fresh figs and lily leaves, Flora fondly bid farewell to friendly Fergus forest troll and fervently set off on a mission to free Fergus from the sordid slew of rotten rumours.

As years and years passed, Flora, having putting an end to the petty, pernicious tales of “fearsome Fergus”, was now making considerable efforts in the tracing and rehabilitation of abandoned, forlorn and dejected forest trolls.

Whilst Fergus forest troll received tremendous tribute for his debut artistic exhibition: “Forest forms: A sculpted series of winter whittling.”

—Kristian Martin

“Troll Traveler”

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Let me introduce you to Giilk, a tiny but stout creature who lives deep in the fjords that stretch across the coast of Kempi. You may have seen his home in popular travel photos of this unique destination. Every morning Giilk has the privilege to awake to the awe-inspiring view from his little nook that is carved high up the cliffs of the fijord. The sharp peaks are dusted with snow today and Giilk thinks to himself, maybe I should take a vacation this winter instead of turning to stone like everyone else of his kind.

Giilk decided to visit Pico a place known for being everything opposite of Kempi. When Giilk arrived it was everything he wanted, nothing like Kempi. The water was a crisp translucent blue unlike the mercy grey blue that is in the fijords. Pico was also much warmer than Kempi because it had a big potato in the sky that kept the air warm and turned Giilks skin a touch scaly texture.

Giilk also found a community not so different from his friends and family in Kempi except they were the ten times the size of Giilks kind and they liked to make fun of his big floppy ears. Nonetheless, they didn’t mind Giilks tiny stature and so he fit in well. Giilk enjoyed riding the smooth wet rock slides in the forest, catching rainbow birds, and swimming in the water that glowed. Giilk lived in a small hut that floated on top of the water and he always went to his neighbors hut in the morning for a nice chat and some fresh milk water.

But one morning after being in Pico what felt like a lifetime he found everyone in Pico had turned to stone. He was confused because his kind only did that for the winter and it looked as though Pico never had winter. Giilk wrote a long farewell note and left it at his neighbors house incase he woke up and then began the long journey back to Kempi.

He arrived home to find that everything was the same as before and everyone made it through the winter as a stone statue. Giilk was greeted ever so warmly but he will never felt whole again because part of him is sill attached to Pico.

—Laura Krause

Untitled

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It was a long, long time ago when trolls moved in great numbers across vast Norwegian plains that Nora was only a small child, and was warned about their dangers. The youngest in a family of boys, Nora was a curious child, and enjoyed exploring the forests around her village.

One particularly shadowy night, Nora’s curiosity led her into the forest just behind the soft lights of her village. She didn’t dare tell any of the elders, as there were recent whispers of evil mountain trolls moving closer to the human villages, and she was forbidden from exploring at that hour. She innocently clutched a simple doll, made of straw, and braved into the mysterious dark woods. Mesmerized by giant canopy trees and the faint murmur of woodland creatures, Nora became easily disoriented. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings and how unfamiliar they looked as the light began to grow dimmer. Panic struck, and she grasped on to a thorny branch, scraping her palm, then stepped onto a slippery stone. Thud. She fell, onto the moist forest floor. Her head hit a larger stone, and she could feel the wind being sucked out of her. She looked to the forest ceiling just as her eyelids closed, one last glimpse the dark night sky before everything was black.

Hours later, Nora’s eyelids were heavy and it seemed that everything around her was spinning. Struggling, her eyes half opened to see watch a blurry, dark, forest rushing past her. Confusion swept over as she noticed that a large, bark-skinned creature appeared to be carrying her. With thoughts of trolls flashing through her head, Nora again slipped into a blackened consciousness.

Startled again, Nora awoke to two creatures that seemed to be arguing over her. One was large, stout, with blackened bark-skin and menacing yellow eyes, carried a sharply angled stone. Arguing with the creature was another, shorter companion, with dim purple eyes and a soft brown colored bark coat. She turned to Nora, cradled her in her arms, and with gentle eyes, whispered a spell in strange tongue that caused Nora to, again, slip into her dreamy state of darkness.

This time, when Nora opened her eyes, things were clearer. She felt better, her senses coming back to her, forming the familiar sight of a house hole in the dark night. As she slowly came back to consciousness, Nora realized she had been lost, deep in the unknown forest. But how had she gotten here, safely, back home? Confused, Nora turned just in time to catch the glint of two purple eyes watching over her at the edge of the woods. Quickly, the creature that they belonged to turned and disappeared back into the dark.

Nora, now one of the elders of her village, to this day believes that it was a mountain troll that saved her life that day, through her faint memories. Once a month, she leaves out an offering to them – three ripe figs and a dandelion – a troll’s favorite meal, along with her little straw doll. And every so often, just for a second, there will be the glimpse of those familiar purple eyes.

—Chloe Jung

“For the Love of Cookies”

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In the isolated green mountains of British Columbia, lived a single peculiar looking creature called the troll. This creature had the uncanny ability to morph into whatever shape it pleases. Most often, he took the form of a boulder, with crevices for eyes and a bed of green moss for his hair. This troll is a playful creature, who fancied humorous trickery and jests from time to time.

One day, the troll was approached, in his boulder form, by a rock climber seeking a new route to explore. The troll had not encountered a human being before this, much less one clad in climbing gear. He eyed the climber, alarmed at the white cap on his head and the length of rope thrown around his shoulder. While the climber scanned his surroundings for a suitable route, the troll morphed into squirrel, to better examine this curious being. The troll proceeded to follow the climber the entire day, and was eventually noticed and fed some chocolate chip cookies. Having tasted cookies for the first time, the troll became smitten with these heavenly snacks.

It was because of these cookies that the troll followed the climber home in the form of a squirrel, riding on the roof of the climber’s shiny moving rock with the wind in his fur. The car entered the city and the troll was awed by the reflective rocks that stood higher than his favorite oak tree, the number of shiny moving rocks in organized lines, and most of all, the noise emitted from these human beings. The humans, on the other hand, were dumbstruck at the sight of a large grey squirrel clinging on to the roof of a Jeep. The climber eventually arrived at his house in the suburbs, where the troll shakily climbed down and collapsed in exhaustion.

For the next few days, the troll took the form of a branch on the maple tree of the climber’s home, staring through the windows. The troll by now has recognized the daily routines of breakfast, work, lunch, work, dinner, and shower. The troll was always excited when the climber ate. The troll would press his eye, in this case, a maple leaf, against the glass window for a glimpse of the daily menu. It was a month later that the troll was finally overcome by his lust for cookies, and decided to morph into a golden retriever.

The golden retriever puppy was happily received by the climber. The troll was thus taken into the climber’s home, and made a pet. Of this the troll didn’t mind, so long as he was receiving cookies for being a “good boy”. Yet, as a year passed, the troll found his craving for cookies to be unfulfilled, and decided to take his passion to the next step. The troll decided to take human form in the daytime, morphing into a park boulder at night. He began with a jobs at different bakeries, where he was repeatedly fired for eating too many cookies during break. Finally, the troll accumulated enough money to begin his own cookie shop, which he named “Uncle Troll’s biscuits”. It is there that the troll lived for the next 100 years, perfecting his chocolate chip cookie recipe and living in utter trollish bliss for the rest of his life.

—Angel Huang

“The Gatekeeper Troll”

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In the northern fields of somewhere far away, a troll is silently keeping watch over a gate, or at least that is what the people say. Mysterious stories of children disappearing are often linked to this gatekeeper troll. Parents of the community just south of the gate always warn their children to not go near the gate.

Henri is a small boy who has troubles getting along with his other school friends because he seldom speaks and when he does he is too quiet but Henri really wants to be good friends with the new girl, Reetta. Although Reetta is a new student, she is very talkative and popular. One day, all the children were excitedly discussing about the mysteries of the gate and the troll that lives there when Reetta declares that she will go and find the troll and asks if someone will accompany her. All the other children immediately declined remembering their parents’ warnings. Henri, however, quietly walks over to Reetta and says, “I’ll go with you.”

The two children make their way north to the gate and as they approached, they notice a weird, distinct smell coming from the other side of the gate. Reetta knocks on the gate. Henri stands behind her. The gate opens slightly and they catch a glimpse of a large velvet-skinned creature with a large nose and tiny ears and his arms were long as they dragged to the side of his body. The troll takes a look at the two children through his single eye. Henri and Reetta are frozen in fear but the troll smiles and welcome them in.

The troll offers the children tea and cakes made of stone (which the children did not eat but the troll really enjoyed the cakes). The gatekeeper troll tells the children stories of him keeping the northern borders safe from foreign creatures from entering and the battles he fought. Reetta really liked talking to the troll but Henri could not help but notice that the skies were already dark.

The troll happily agrees to walk the children home since it was dark. Reetta and Henri said their farewells to the troll and promised to visit again. When Henri gets home, his mother asks him where he has been. He proudly tells her about her adventure with Reetta and when he was finished his mother only laughed and said, “If you two really did meet the gatekeeper troll, there is no way you would be back home now!” Reetta’s parents also responded to their daughter’s adventure in the same way. Henri and Reetta decide they must have just imagined it and the gatekeeper troll remains unknown and mysterious.

—IC

“The Misjudged Tromsø Troll and the Helpful Norwegian Boy”

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Axel, a small boy who lived in Tromsø, Northern Norway, had just had his 16th birthday. He was well built for a young man of his age, and his crystal blue eyes glistened even in the darkest of winter nights. His mother and father owned a small bit of land tucked away at the foot of a large mountain facing the vast, mysterious Norwegian Sea. Axel would climb the mountain during much of his childhood, and look out across the empty waters in search of sea-battered Vikings on their exciting and eventful journeys. He dreamed of joining them one day.

But he knew his duty lay at his family’s home. He had to stay and help with the fields and cattle – his mother and father wouldn’t be able to do it alone. He could only day-dream of the far away places those ships could take him to. He could only dream of the lush, green forests, and freshwater springs that may be found on the other side of the mountain. His golden locks blew in the wind as he sat atop a small ledge protruding from the mountain. He looked across the sea and said thought to himself aloud, “One day, I will leave Tromsø and go on some great adventure.”

The rock beneath him began to tremble. Axel jumped up in surprise. He braced himself for the possibility of a bear or monstrous creature lurking behind him. No such creature appeared. He began to drop his hands at his sides, when the trembling started up again – this time much more significantly than before. The slab of rock that Axel was sitting on began to lift itself. Axel nimbly hopped into a near-by tree, frightened that a bear might be coming out from under the ledge.

The rock kept lifting itself up until it was standing vertically. A face, dotted with small boulders and shrubs, extended from the other side of the rock slab – the truly and utterly ugly face of a mountain troll. It had a large, drooping nose, and sad, half-closed eyes that seemed to have never seen the sunlight. Its mouth gnawed on a few falling sticks from the shaken trees above. Axel, still perched in the nearby tree, observed with awe-struck eyes. A gasp escaped from his small lips. The troll turned slowly to where the sound had come from. He brought a large tree-trunk arm up to his rock-slab forehead and scratched with his root-like fingers. He spoke with a deep, rumbling voice that shook the trees and gravel around him.

“Yes, I too would like to travel. To leave this desolate mountain in Tromsø and be one with the southern sea winds.” He looked Axel straight in the eyes and continued to gnaw on the branches and leaves protruding from his mouth, lazily and sleepily he slowed the circular motion of his jaw. Axel, still frozen with fright and surprise, only managed a muttered reply.

“Your-you’re… You’re a troll! You’re a Tromsø Troll! The beast – the beast that wanders the Tromsø hills in search for children and livestock!” His eyes widened and he gripped a nearby branch in case he needed a weapon.

“Alas, dear boy, I am not said creature. Your people seem to tell tales of enchantment and exaggeration. I am the Tromsø Troll, but I do not wander nor do I eat children and livestock. That would be rude and unhealthy. No, no. You are mistaken.” The Troll gave an exasperated sigh and turned to face the now-calm Norwegian Sea.

“If you are not the monstrous troll I’ve heard a great deal about, then who are you?” Axel crept down from his perch and approached the Troll, climbed up his rock-slab back and sat near a small shrub on the Troll’s left shoulder.

“I am the Troll of the Tromsø Hills, forever confined to this region because of my duty to the Bodojonk Trolls. It is my task to guard and protect these mountains from harm and danger. I must sit here and keep a watchful eye on the seas, take notice of any suspicious rustle in the leaves of my trees or the movement of the pebbles beneath my feet. I protect you and your family, your cattle and crops, from the Trondersky Trolls, of the Southern region. They hunt these lands. And they destroy anything and everything in their path on their search for food.” The Tromsø Troll spat out his chewed debris and sat back against the weight of the mountain behind him. Axel had to grab onto the Troll’s large tree ears so that he didn’t fall to his death.

“So you are misjudged? My people have thought you to be dangerous and harmful. We send out our best men to hunt for signs of you, for signs of trolls that may come and destroy our seaside village. I must tell them that these are lies!”

“You can tell them what you want, dear boy, but it will not free me of this duty. I must wait here. I am sworn to this mountain. I cannot leave as you one day dream to do.” He let out another long sign, and they weight of his breathe bent all the trees in the valley below.

“Then I, too, shall wait with you, friendly Troll,” Axel said, with a nod of his head.

“Do you really mean it?” The Troll stood up so suddenly that Axel fell to the ground, nearly landing on the jagged rocks below. The Troll swooped his large root-like hands and caught the boy just in time. He scooped him up towards his large, ugly face and spoke softly as to not blow him over with his powerful wind-breathe.

“You would stay here and keep me company during my watch? I am very lonely up here.”

“I will come up once a day, after I’ve herded my cattle, and keep you company until sundown,” Axel promised, with his right hand over his heart.

And this marked the beginning of an unusual – but beautiful – friendship between a small Norwegian boy, and a friendly Tromsø Troll. Today, you can see the Troll’s silhouette in the Tromsø mountains – a slab of grey rock protruding from the face of the cliff and a small human-like rock figure sitting on his left shoulder. Together, they watch the mysterious waters of the Norwegian Sea for unfriendly faces who may threaten their sweet, small town of Tromsø.

—Zoe Arthur