Tag Archives: should

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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

“Trowling”

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Every few years, the trolls living in the gorge next to the valley Eyren put on a competition among the adolescent trolls. The competition was an important one, as it decided which of the young trolls would be chosen to partake in the troll games. What are the trolls games you might ask? Only the most prestigious event for all the trolls of all time! Rock throwers of all size and skill wished to be a part of the troll games, for they all wished to throw rocks at the human town of Eyren over the hill. They all strove for the honour and glory of bashing down as much of the town as possible, yet the honour was only bestowed upon the mighty.

Why stop anyone from the rock-tossing joy, one might wonder? For the pesky humans had a tendency to try and ruin their fun, shooting fiery arrows and cutting them with swords and even, horror of all horrors, trying to coax them out into the sunlight. Such as it were, the games were too dangerous for the youngest trolls, and Troki was not allowed to compete. His older brother Trokar was the most impressive of the teen aged trolls, he was the tallest and strongest of them all, with giant hands that could toss a boulder as far as another troll’s rock! Yet Troki wanted nothing more than to compete with his older brother, why should any self-respecting troll be deprived of destroying human homes?

Thus as night settled in, the games began and the trolls tossed rocks one by one at the human village. It was no surprise that Trokar’s boulder was the first to hand a crushing blow to the human settlement. As the cries went up, of humans in terror and trolls in celebration, Troki snuck in and took his place. With a great cry he sprinted forward, carrying a boulder that was much too large for him to handle. Just as little Troki was about to toss, he looked to his brother Trokar, who shook his head in dismay knowing his little brother would never be able to throw such a stone. Yet with his head turned, Troki did not see the ledge in front of him and slipped, tumbling and bouncing wildly down the hill towards the human village. Trokar shouted yet Troki could not be stopped, smashing and crashing down the hill with a fury, arms still wrapped around the boulder as he gained speed with every bump and blunder. The trolls looked on in shock as the blur that was Troki smashed into the first building of the town, and, to their shock and wonder, destroyed it along with the next! Troki did such wonderful damage to the town that is was then that the games were changed. And thus, my friends, is how Trowling was invented.

—Christine Sherrington

“Trolls”

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(For the full effect this should be read in a bad Brooklyn accent.)

As he stood outside the restaurant on the corner of 200 and 5th Joe Smart finished his fifth cigarette and made his way across the street to the back door of the shoddy Brooklyn restaurant. He could feel the sweat from his palms make the handle of the briefcase slide through his hand as he was crossing the street, as he walked through the door he was met by the largest Italian man he had ever seen.

“I- I’m here to see Marty.”

Joe stammered. As the Italian stared back at him with dead eyes he said “The fuck are you?”
As Joe didn’t have an adequate response due to his completely unassociated identity with these people he felt compelled to add a,

“…please?”

The man turned from him and called into the din behind him.

“Marty!”

Suddenly Joe heard a

“Yeah, I got some time.”

And was sent through.

Now Joe had heard stories of Marty Troll, what seemed like myths or legends even, he had always assumed they had been the construct of exaggerated gossip, as Italian housewives are prone to create. But what Joe saw before him now slackened his jaw and made all the stories seem that much more horrifying. Standing before Joe in the smoky back room was the ugliest man he had ever seen. Marty Troll seemed to be coated in grease, it started at the top of his head, combing over the few strands of dyed black hair into a cow lick all across his shinning round head, dripping down into the sweat drops that crawled over his face which one could hardly see due to the giant bulb of a nose that was jutting out of it, Joe thought he could smell the sweat seeping into Marty’s XXXL black t-shirt, it seemed like the fabric was stuck to his skin, forming into the deep folds in Marty’s belly. Joe could feel those beady black eyes staring at him but for the life of him he couldn’t shut his mouth, it felt like all the courage he had was seeping out of his gaping mouth leaving him with nothing but the accelerated beating of his heart pounding in his ears.

“There somethin’ in particular you lookin at?”

“N- n- no sir. I- I’m sorry.”

Joe stammered.

The room shook as Marty let out a deep-bellied howl of laughter. This both frightened and eased poor Joe who began to hesitantly laugh along with Marty, although Joe knew now what he hadn’t before, he was unsure of whether he could really go through with this, if this was really what he even wanted. But now he knew, after seeing Marty fuckin Troll he knew he was in way over his head and didn’t want anything to do with this kind of company. As he was trying to think of some excuse to leave the place Marty interrupted his thoughts with–
“So what is it you’re lookin’ for? I see you’ve got quite a nice briefcase in your hands there.”
Marty continued to chuckle through his words, Joe didn’t know what to say so he just nodded vigourosly.

“So tell me, I’m a reasonable man, you’ve obviously come here lookin’ for something, let’s do some business.”

Marty seemed truly genuine with these words, it eased Joe up and loosened his tongue,
“Well- well thank you, really, because you see the thing is, I- I thought I wanted
something, and so I came here, thinking I was looking for something”

“uh-hu”

“But you see that thing, that’s just not me.”

“I see”

Marty responded with a smile, which relaxed Joe even more

“yeah, yeah. It’s just, not. Who I am”

“I understand”

“You do? Really? That’s, that’s really fantastic, because I’m just not- y’know I’m not like this, I’m just-“

“Yeah, you’re a good kid, right? I can see that”

“y- um yeah.”

“I can see that, you. You’re good. I can see you. You think you’re good. You think you’re better-“

“wha- NO!”

“Do NOT interrupt me.”

Marty was glaring at Joe with those beady eyes, Joe unconsciously started backing away until he bumped into the wall. Cornered.

“You come in here, with your weasel fucking face and your god damned briefcase lookin like some punk out of a movie and you’re trying to come to ME. You? You insignificant little fuck come to me in my place of business and try to tell me that you’re better than me? Is that fucking it? What, because you got a damn desk job? Does that make you’re money better than mine? You think I don’t work as hard as you? What, you feel like “this isn’t you” like you got somethin’ fuckin’ better to do? What’s the difference between you and me, huh? I was born into my life and you were born into yours, I grew up this way, this if my family, while you were at college what exactly the fuck do you think I was doing? Even if I fuckin—“
And for a moment, Joe thought he saw something flicker past Marty’s eyes, just for a moment.

“Yeah… Yeah, well you know what. Not today kid. Today is not the day I forgive or forget, you came here for business, so let’s do some business.”

—P. Sehat

“Tommi the Troll”

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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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There was once a vast green forest, which has since burnt to the ground, that was home to a prosperous group of Forest Trolls. Amongst these trolls, was a small girl troll named Hogie Bilby. Hogie was the youngest of the Bilby family and the only girl. She had 6 older brothers, Rainbie, Polbie, Blanbie, Rigsbie, Jansbie and Bluebie. All of whom played an instrument at the evening gathering.

Hogie loved music but whenever she tried to join her brothers they told her that troll girls could not play an instrument or sing, and that she should make them a feast, for they would be very hungry after playing music. Hogie made their feast, but spat and added dirt and dust from the floor to the food and watched in delight as her brothers scarfed it down after their music playing.

Eventually though, spitting in her brothers food became boring and unsatisfying. So, since her brothers would not allow her to play with them, Hogie would wait until her brothers were snoring and snarfing away in dreamland, then creep down to the music room to play with the instruments. Though she had never had a formal lesson, Hogie quickly learned to play every instrument she touched, because she had been born with a special gift that no one knew about. As she played, beautiful lyrics flowed from her mouth, with the sweetest tune ever heard. She was by far the best musician in all the forest, though no one knew it.

One night, at the evening gathering, Hogie’s brothers prepared to perform for the community. But when they opened their mouths to sing, nothing came out, and when they tried to play their instruments, their fingers stiffened and fumbled and they were unable to play a note! The other trolls began to be very angry and upset because they loved music and felt they were being gipped out of a good time. Hogie gathered her courage and stood in front of her troll friends and family, “I will play for you,” she said. The trolls began to snicker, for a troll girl had never before played at the evening gathering. But Hogie was strong and picked up a guitar and began to play the most beautiful song in the most beautiful voice the trolls had ever heard. All the trolls wept at how beautiful it was, and from that moment, troll girls were never kept from playing music again.

—Krista Marshall

“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

“Arni and the Golden Whale”

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“Father, what is it that you were saying to that man?” said Arni to his father.

Asmar replied: “Ahhh my son, it is no mere ‘child’s-play.’ For, a place of darkness, gloom and foul odour there is at the end of the Suðureyrl fjord, on the outskirts of our lands. It is said, in the winter, that the shores of Suðureyrl are rank with the scent of death and that no man who wanders the shores in the frigid darkness will be spared of the malevolence that is home to those lands. Agdi, the Troll, looms in the fogs of the sandy shores. Heed your father’s wise warning! Try your luck at the herring, through the ice, and our family will survive this miserable winter by Odin’s grace.”

Arni proclaimed, “Father, surely he will keep my soul safe as I fish those treacherous waters and land my anchor upon those shores. I share my father’s blood, and his father’s before him. We are descended of the noblest lineage and fear non-other than Thor himself. I hold a golden knife that the first borns of our lineage have carried since the start of time! There are many fisherman in these waters, and our stock has been looted by the thieves to the east. I must travel to Suðureyrl to make landfall and catch the great Golden Whale named Sigríður. If we hope to survive this winter I must catch Sigríður and trick her into revealing where all the fish in our oceans have gone.” “Good-bye father. Wish the gods to favour me on my travels.” Said Arni.

Two weeks have passed since I last witnessed the resonance of my father’s words, since I last saw my sweet sister. The journey has been treacherous, my guts are tormented by hunger and the cold has slipped deep into my bones. At last I see the edge of Suðureyrl fjord, with a deserted coast, inhospitable and jagged. I see into the distance, there looms a fog. As I approach, I am overcome with the sense that I am not alone, nor that I am welcome in these waters. The fog grows thicker as I approach the final stretch before the shore. It is such that I can hardly see my own hands gripping the paddles. It is only now, that I recall my father’s heeding words, but I cannot turn back.

At last, my hull drags upon a gravel shore amongst a canyon of towering walls. I see just enough to make out the grey hued outlines of trees, unusually large and tall. I am unaccustomed to seeing any trees in Iceland. It is nearly dusk, so I make a small fire and shelter below a large boulder. I close my eyes and let my dreams take me.

As I wake the next morning, the fog has receded up the steep slopes, the arctic sun has poked through and thawed the beach creating a mist rising from the sands. It is time for me to start my search for Sigríður. I begin by following the shoreline along the sides of the inlet. Scoping across the calm water looking for her golden shimmer below the ripples.
I remembered, long ago, that a sailor once told me that whales are mystical creatures and they only appear when they want to be seen. I waited, and searched, and waited and searched, yet nothing appeared and dusk was upon me once again. I returned to my shelter, but when I returned, I saw footsteps coming out from the ocean. They were ten times the size of my own, and they left a trail of residual putrid slime. It occurred to me, as I stood still in my tracks, that I couldn’t even take another breath. My worst intuitions were correct.

After regaining control of myself, I quietly returned to my shelter, made a small smoldering fire, and rested my legs. I coursed over, in my head, what this troll is that walks these shores, and what I will do if I encounter its foulness before me. After many hours my eyes pulled shut.

In the morning the fog was dense, the air cold, and the sky occluded. I had forgotten what transpired the night before until it shocked me awake. I peered around and saw nothing due to the dense fog. I walked to the seashore to wash my face, and as I bent over I saw a golden shimmer, just across the bay near some rock outcroppings. I frantically ran to where I saw the shimmers. As I got closer, I was able to make out the shape, it was indeed what I was looking for, the great Sigríður. I approached, and asked, “great Sigríður, I have come far to seek your wisdom! Why is it that there are no fishes in our waters?… where can I find them to feed my family?”

Sigríður replied in a rhythmic voice: “Arni, I’ve watched you come, and watched you search the cove from point to shore, but these deep waters hold more than you and me. Your lust for knowledge intrigues me so, listen to my words and listen well. One night more you will walk these shores, for when fog reaches the forest edge, you’ll receive that which you came to find.” As soon as Sigríður’s last words trickled from her mouth, she was gone as if she was never there.

I have heard stories of whales telling sailors of mischievous trickery, leading them on treks across Iceland only to meet their death. I was upset that I failed, but I had a sliver of hope that Sigríður spoke truth, hidden beneath her twisted words. I returned to my shelter to wait, and waited I did until the sun showed its last ray and slipped below the horizon. No sooner, did the fog come cascading down the slopes amidst the giant trees and ferns that, unusually, all the forest had become absolutely silent. It felt as though there were forces at work in these forests that had no business among men. I grew tense, and held my golden knife, gripping the handle with a cool sweat.

A foul odour was coming from the water’s edge. By now, the fog had just passed the forest and made its way across the beach to the water on the shores. I stood in wonder before a vulgar looking beast, covered in hair and kelp, slowly walking out of the water. It was massive, nearly the size of a whale. It could be no other than a Sea Troll, the one my father warned me of! I was ready to fight, I knew there was no running away, and nowhere to hide. I now knew what Sigríður was eluding to. If I was to find food for my family, I must confront this troll and find what I came for. I jumped from my shelter and yelled at it. “I am Arni, I am seeking you, troll. Who are you?”

The troll, lumbered forward and yawned. Then, with his foul smelling breath, he said in a low pitched tone, “I am Agdi, Troll of the Western Seas, and you are in my forest!… I eat men who intrude into my forest and sail in my waters!… tell me, why should I not tear your limbs and skewer you like I’ve done to those before you?”

“I have come far to find where the fish have gone. I challenge you to a riddle? And if you get the answer wrong then you must obey one command of me, great Agdi, you are the smartest troll, are you not?” said Arni.

“Of course I’m the smartest troll, how dare you think I could not answer a trivial riddle thought of by a mere man!” said Agdi.

“What hides during the day, only comes out at night, makes no sound and is always watching?” Asked Arni.

“Argghhhh!! This is not a riddle, it is trickery!… Oh wait! I know! It is the owl!” proclaimed Agdi.

“Wrong answer, silly troll! It is the moon! Now you must obey my wish” said Arni.

“I hate the trickery of men!! But troll honour requires me to fulfill your wish” said Agdi.

“I wish for you to find fish for my family to help us survive this frigid winter” asked Arni.

Agdi said “But I am only a sea troll, only the golden whale Sigríður knows where the fish are, and only she can help you. By night’s end I will transform, and Sigríður will take over my earthly body as I turn to pure gold. Arni, you must offer Sigríður something she can’t resist, the only thing she values is gold. You must offer her gold in exchange for her help. This is the only way you’re family will eat this winter!… I have fulfilled my bargain, and mark my words, by the next nightfall I will have you on my skewer, and I will delight in human flesh!”

It was almost dawn and Agdi waded back into the ocean as the fog receded back up the mountain slopes. I knew that somehow I must find Sigríður and tempt her with my golden knife, in exchange for fish.

Later that afternoon, I waited where I last saw Sigríður for hours. Then at last I saw her golden splendor appear out of the blue ocean. Sigríður asked, “Why have you returned man, you have not found what you seek? You have not found Agdi?”

I replied “I have come to seek you great Sigríður, I have come with a gift in exchange for fish to last my family the winter”.

Sigríður replied “A gift you offer, what gift could a man have that a whale could ever want?”.

I replied “I bear the golden blade which has sent many men to Valhalla. Surely this you could not refuse!”

Sigríður replied, “You interest me man, I will give you what you seek, for gold I cannot refuse. Meet me at your village and I will bring you what you wish.”

I travelled for two weeks back to my home. As I went, Sigríður followed beside me filling her mouth with fish, until no more could fit. As we arrived, at my home I had grown worried about what I would do when Agdi reappeared at dusk. There was only one solution. I gripped the blade in my hand, and as soon as Sigríður spit out the fish on the shore, I carved a deep wound in her belly. As soon as she bled out, she turned into Agdi and once the sun struck Agdi’s flesh he turned immediately to a rigid rock. All could see what a beast he was. But, when I look upon the beach where his rock corpse lays, I see the hero of a troll who saved my family.

—Ants Hoiles

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One day, the weather is dark and it is cold. Rain is dropping down crazily. The wind is blowing and the door of an old house was moving back and forth. In this old house, a woman is lying on the floor in pain with cold sweat that was pouring down her face. She is preparing to give birth to a baby. She can feel the pain and it is getting worse. The sound of her moans has filled the house. She is now relieved, when she hears the cries of a baby. She hugs her baby. Darkness fills this house; she does not have clear view. At the moment when a big lightning bolt hits the ground, she sees her baby. When she sees her baby, she drops her baby down on the floor. The look of her baby has surprised her. Her baby has facial wrinkles like an old man, has one eye, and a hairy body. She holds her baby again, prays for happiness even though she realizes that her baby is cursed. She names her baby “Happy.”

As soon as happy is born instinctively, he knows himself that he’ll never cry. She raises her baby carefully, so as not to expose it to the people. As Happy grows up, he is concerned how he looks different than his mother, but does not question to his mom. Raising her child by not exposing it to anyone is a hard task. People have started to notice Happy, and people around her are calling her a witch. People are talking loudly about how this baby should be killed. People do not stop their criticism and even they throw stones at Happy and his mother. When happy’s anger grows bigger and bigger, his mother relieves him by saying “People will notice you that you are gifted, a gifted person in the future”. Her infinite love to happy make him happy. One day while he is helping his mom collecting some vegetables outside of the house, people throws enormous stones to happy and his mom. One of the rocks hits her head and she bleeds. People are calling her “witch” and shouting that she should die. When he reaches his mother, she says to Happy, “I’m so sorry, for making you mi

As time goes by, Happy becomes bigger and stronger. Happy grows 20 times bigger than a regular person. He goes to a village where people live and kills many people by smashing them. His anger grows bigger and bigger. Every time he sees people, he either smashes these people with a rock or throws them far away.

One day, Happy is sitting on the mountain looking at the lake. He sees his face that is reflecting on the water. He cries. He cries because he knows that his feeling does not get better by killing people. He wants a normal life. He wants to be happy like his name. He is lonely and sad. He misses his mother so much. He lays down on the mountain and looks up at the sky. He does not move for a long time. Trees start to grow on his body, and he becomes a mountain.

People call him “sad troll.”

We do not know when he will wake up.

—Ji Won Choi

“The Modern Troll”

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Once upon a time there lived a hideous, grumpy troll under the Burrard bridge. He would yell emerge as soon as the sun came down and bombard passersby on their bicycles and on their roller blades and chortle and yell at them any abrasive sounds that would escape his slimy troll mouth. It was rumored he sold illicit substances to teenagers in exchange for pieces of raw uncooked steak of the best quality.  Parents of these children are very curious as to why their teens are coming home stinking like dead animals, their coats covered in a gooey slime. The only reason the troll lets these kids go scot-free is because he can count on them for raw juicy steaks. Kids never tell the authorities about the troll because they don’t seem to care much about public safety. They are mainly concerned with being rebellious, defying all social constraints placed on their by society and their parents in particular. This is perhaps the main reason why the troll hasn’t been found out or killed. The troll under the Burrard bridge is very selective with who he shows himself to. He is not like the other trolls in the world. His brain is more advanced than other trolls, perhaps a genetic mutation of the troll species. He is therefore able to discern between who and who he should not expose himself to. That is why he only fraternizes with teenagers, to keep himself away from the troll hunters. As the days go by, more and more teenagers are dying because of these crappy cheap troll drugs and the word is getting out. It shouldn’t be long before the authorities find out and someone steps up to the plate and hunts the Burrard bridge troll.

—Megan