“Oscar the Emasculated Troll”

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

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Once upon a time in a magical kingdom lived an ugly, lazy and bad tempered troll named Meekawl. Meekawl didn’t care much for anything and especially hated taking baths. His body odour could burn one’s nose off from miles away. It was why many of the animals in the forest had run away, lest they end up like the others who had strayed too close to him and dropped dead.

One day, when Meekawl was out hunting for his favourite food, speckled red cap mushrooms, Meekawl noticed something odd. Someone or something, had been digging up the little patches of fungi and devouring them whole. This made Meekawl very angry as eating his favourite mushrooms was one of the only joys he had in life. Mind made up, Meekawl set off to find the one who had dared to take what was his.

A distance away, a princess named Bianca, who was completely doused in a thick cloud of perfume and thus immune to Meekawl’s hideous troll stink, was on her way back to her castle after a day of horseback riding. Feeling uneasy at the complete silence and isolation of the area she had wandered through, she noticed a huge black shadow overtake the light of the sun. Turning slowly to look over her shoulder, she glimpsed a green hideous face, mouth full of what looked like red mushrooms. Before Bianca could open her mouth to scream, a large ugly fist slammed so hard into the face, propelling the monster far away and rendering it dead.

“TAKE THAT YOU DUMB MUSHROOM THIEF!” Roared the owner of the fist.

Gasping, Bianca being a well brought up princess quickly tried to express her gratitude.

“Oh! Thank you so much for saving me! Since you have done such a good deed, I will grant you entry inside my palace despite my no ugliness allowed rule. Aren’t you lucky?”

Turning to glare at her, Meekawl snarled, “NO THANKS. I DON’T LIKE PEOPLE.” Looking down his large bulbous nose at her he sneered before walking back to his forest. “YOU SHOULD THINK ABOUT TAKING A BATH. YOU STINK.”

—Michelle Shieh

“Tommi the Troll”

He didn’t want to go to school. But as usual, he couldn’t tell his mother why. It would hurt her too much. He dreaded the walk into town, the winding pathway that brought him closer and closer to the site of his daily humiliation. The children there could be so unkind. He wondered if all parents forgot memories of their own childhood. Perhaps that was why they sent their offspring off to school, oblivious to their fate. Like cows for the slaughter. But not everyone was like him, and maybe not every parent remembered the cruelties that came hand in hand with primary school. Not everyone was stared at on the walk to school, or instantly disliked. Not everyone was teased and laughed at for how they looked. Not everyone was twice as tall as his or her classmates, and not everyone had lots more hair than a human eight year-old should have. No one was as ugly as Tommi. His mother told him time and time again, that he wasn’t ugly, he was just a little bit different and that was what made him special. But the children at school said otherwise. He was her special boy, and she had waited for him for a long, long time. She told him, that sometimes people were slow to see good qualities in others, especially those who were a little bit different from them.

“Have a good day my lovely boy.” His mother said giving him a hug. “Do you have your packed lunch?” Tommi nodded, and instinctively patted his little rucksack. Every morning, his mom made him a quail egg sandwich with berry leaves. It was Tommi’s favorite. And everyday Tommi sat alone at lunchtime. He tried to keep out of sight, sitting on a rock under a tall oak tree in the corner of the playground. But his height and broad shoulders made it very difficult to hide. His classmates would stand a short distance away and taunt him. One boy with blond curly hair was their leader and he would hurl remarks that brought howls of laughter from the crowd. To Tommi, they sounded like a pack of loud and hungry wolves. Later that same day, while Tommi sat alone in the shade as usual, the blond boy yelled out, “How’s your baby sandwich, you filthy troll! Did you roast the baby or barbeque it this time!?” The boy’s words and the children’s vicious grins would cut Tommi like knifes. Tommi didn’t eat human babies. He didn’t know why people thought that. He wanted to be human more than anything else in the world. His mother was a kind human lady, with no children of her own, who had found Tommi as a baby, alone and abandoned in the woodlands behind her house. She had raised him as her son and named him after her late husband, who had been well liked and highly respected in town. Not that it mattered to the children in their treatment of Tommi, or their parents who stared at him as he walked to school.

Just then the bell rang, and the crowd of children dispersed as the boys and girls ran back towards the school building. As usual, Tommi waited until the rest of the children were a little bit ahead, before he got up from his rock. The boy with the blond curly hair was running ahead of the pack. He was sprinting, trying to make it to the heavy wooden doors first. Tommi could see what was about to happen. Tommi watched the blond boy gleefully look over his shoulder, to take pleasure in his lead ahead of everybody else. Tommi saw the little bunch of weeds in the grass that the blond boy was running straight towards without watching where he was going, and because of his great speed, their was no time to warn the boy or for him to change direction. The blond boy tripped on the weeds and went sailing through the air, landing with a loud thud. His leg was splayed out at a funny angle and the boy started to wail. Hot tears flooded down his angelic face that was twisted into a look of sheer agony. All the other children stopped, unsure of what to do. No one moved forward to try and help him. At that moment, Tommi bolted across the grassy playground, three times faster than the little blond boy. None of the children had ever seen him run, because he moved slowly to avoid bringing attention to himself. In truth, he was much quicker than any human child, and was at the injured boy’s side in a matter of seconds. The blond boy looked up at Tommi who knelt over the injured child. The boy’s look of agony was replaced with a look of sheer terror and he covered his face with his arms in a pitiful effort to shield himself from the troll child that towered over him. Tommi rested his hands on the boy’s injured leg, and in seconds it shifted back into a more natural position. The blond boy looked up at Tommi in disbelief, who using the rumored magic of the trolls had healed his tormentor’s leg.

From that day forward, Tommi never dreaded walking to school. His walk down the winding path was met with smiles from the townspeople, whose children included him in every schoolyard gathering. And despite his naturally quick speed, Tommi often let the other children win the games they played together.

—Julie O’Connell

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When I woke up this morning, something felt odd. There was some sort of stench in the air. Something was off about the day and I intended to find out what. I went and told my parents immediately but they were sleeping and told me they did not want to be bothered for the next several hours so I went on my way to figure out what the stench was.

I left my burrow and went around back to the shortcut that led to the mountains. It was very foggy and I could not see much. So, I climbed up the trees to get a better view. And there it was. The largest beet I ever did see. But, what was it doing plucked on its side? I had to figure out why. So I jumped through the trees to get a better view of it and it looked like these miniature bunnies were chomping away at it! The nerve of them! I could feel the anger boiling within me so I began to run over to the beetroot yelling at the bunnies. “Get away from the beet! Go away, SKIT, YOU PIECES OF SCUM!” They all started dispersing and hopping away and I felt bad. I could tell they were all confused and scared because I was yelling but I was too late to stop myself from yelling at them.

All I wanted was for them to take the beet somewhere else because I didn’t want the smell around my home. It was a very potent smell. I would have even helped carry the beet for them since I’m bigger and they would need help. But, I just scared them off. I felt so awful I slid down the tree and wept for hours.

—Sarah Jung

“Troll Jerky”

You know, not so long ago, over there in the hills on the other side of the bay, there was a family of trolls that settled into an old mine shaft.

In the summertime, some of the local kids would go over to the mine and dare each other to go further and further along towards the trolls’ den, which surely must have lain at the very end of the tracks, in the darkest part of the cave. The bravest boys and girls would creep deep down into the shaft until the daylight behind them was only a whisper, and the air grew damp and began to stink a bit of pork.

“Troll farts!” observed one girl. “They smell like bacon ‘cause the trolls have been feeding on mister Jensen’s hogs. They smoke ‘em, make jerky out of ‘em. But they prefer human jerky when they can get it!”

When they wouldn’t dare go any deeper into the mine, the kids might pick up stones and see who could throw one hardest and farthest into the darkness, closest to the troll family’s lair. Of course, all of the kids made sure that they were well on their way home from the hills by the time sunset came around.

One sunny Saturday, a group of girls and boys had crept as far as they would creep along into the mine and were throwing stones in the direction of the troll den. One large boy hurled a stone as straight and as hard as any boy could, and to everyone’s surprise, a cry of sharp pain echoed down the shaft.

“Ow!” shrieked a voice. It wasn’t much deeper in tone than the voices of the young girls, but it was enough of a shock to freeze every kid on the spot.

They seemed to wait silently and motionlessly for some instruction from someone. To run? To scream? To stand and fight the nasty, ugly brutes?

But before a decision could be made, a stone whizzed back up the mine shaft, striking the large boy sharply on an ear. He wailed horrifically and the kids bolted back towards the daylight.

All the kids ran back except one little girl, who lingered a moment, then dared to creep just a little further into the darkness. She had a sugar cookie in her pocket, baked that morning by her mother, which she now offered out towards the darkness.

A dainty, brown, fuzzy hand, almost the exact same size as the girl’s, reached out for the cookie. It didn’t snatch, but gently took the cookie back into the darkness. The little girl heard a soft crunching and munching, and even a polite groan of satisfaction.

“Mmmmm…” cooed the little troll in the dark. And before the girl knew it, the small fuzzy hand reached back into the light, and offered her back a slice of the most deliciously scented pork jerky she had ever caught a whiff of. And, you know, it was magic jerky! For as soon as the last bite of the stick was finished, another would surely reappear in the eater’s hand.

“Thank you” said the girl towards the darkness, and she went back down the tracks, out of the mine and home to her family.

Well, the bloody-eared large boy who threw the stone told his large dad who got all up in arms and eventually he had the mine blown up and caved in with dynamite.

It really is too bad, you know. But at least I got my piece of jerky! And one is really all you need.

—Matt Clarke