Curse Chapter Five
They were several positive words you could use to describe New City Park, beautiful,
picturesque, romantic, scenic, quiet, comfortable, just to name a few. Of course all these were
said in the daylight. At five minutes past midnight it was a completely different story.
The ugly yellow light from the road lamps failed to capture the beauty of the fresh green
grass and gentle sloping hills. The benches which sat overly romantic couples were now beds
for the drunk, homeless and a mixture of both. The open spaces were pet dogs were walked
was now a breeding ground for strays of every species. The trees which stood tall and
majestic were now eerie and the bridges…
…had a troll hiding under them.
They were three bridges in New City Park and there was only one troll. A large three metre
tall creature with long matted brown fur, long gangly arms with giant hands and long one
inch nails on each finger and short muscular legs that moved its bulk faster than you think it
could. Its face was just as scary as its body, with its dark beady emotionless eyes, its
misshapen stumpy nose and four long sharp teeth that crossed together when its large mouth
was closed. It was a scary creature. It was a good thing it slept for a week after its evening
meal.
This one was awake three days after its meal.
The troll rolled on its back and scratched its belly. A ritual it usually performed when it woke
up. Its beady eyes scanned the ends of the bridges. There was no sunlight as far as it could
see. It hated sunlight. It hated the way its skin would burn up under it. The way its eyes
would be blinded. It preferred the night although they were only marginally better than the
day time. It was small crisis it faced. The troll ate humans and at this time of night they were
only three types of human out, homeless people, foolish runners and thieves, although the
troll didn’t see them like that. It saw them as bland meat with a hint of cheap alcohol and
methamphetamine, tough meat with perspiration and tough and finally tough, bland meat
with perspiration, methamphetamines and various other drugs. A police officer or drug dealer
would mix it up once in a while but that was about it on its staple food, which it hated. What
it favoured were little girls, preferably ones below nine. There was something about them that
made them…delicious. The problem was they only came out in the daylight. So to get one it
would have to kill itself.
It missed the days when little girls did chores.
The troll sniffed the air. Its eyes widened in surprise and greed.
It had to check. It had to make sure. It sat up and reached a clawed hand up around the edge
of the bridge its other hand grabbing the giant machete it kept with it. The troll pulled itself
onto the bridge and looked around. It eyes settled on something on the other side of the
bridge.
If the troll could express emotion clearly it would have cried. With joy.
On the other side of the bridge stood the stereotypical version of the perfect little girl. Blonde
with pigtails, innocent blue eyes, a pink knee length dress with a puffy white top underneath,
a brown teddy bear in her arms and pink shoes with socks up to her knees. She was perfect
and she smelt delicious too.
The girl screamed at the sight of the troll but it was pointless. All the homeless people and
animals in the park knew to stay away from the bridges. Some had seen it but they knew that
they couldn’t report it. No policeman would take a drug addict seriously they only did that for
celebrities’ not homeless people. So they stayed away from it. And a little girl screaming
wasn’t going to change their mind about it.
The little girl tripped and landed on her bottom as she tried to back away. Her screaming had
drained her voice and she had resorted to sobbing. She had tried calling for her mum and dad
but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it was pointless. She had broken one of
their rules. Do not talk to strangers, even when they offer candy and dresses. She hugged the
bear tighter.
The troll drew itself to its full height and walked slowly towards her, savouring the moment
with each step the rusted, blood-stained machete scraping against the concrete providing the
needed background track. It would enjoy the meal. It unhinged its jaw for that purpose. It
would swallow her whole first and savour the taste in its mouth. It would regurgitate and eat
her again several times over the next few weeks. He didn’t care how disgusting it sounded,
they were only so many times that such a rare meal crossed its path and it would make sure to
enjoy this one. It dropped its jaw.
Trolls, despite their vaguely humanoid appearance, were illiterate. If it could read it would
have realised that this was one of the three kidnapped girls that had gone missing this week.
Three was a convenient number. That and the way the girl had conveniently appeared in the
centre of the park unescorted should have registered something in its brain that would have
been obvious to anyone else with more than food on their mind.
The girl was bait.
It was luck it had superb hearing.
It heard a boot scrape the ground behind it.
It turned around its jaw swinging wildly with the motion. Three throwing knives which had
been intended for its upper back were buried in its shoulder. Its blood and skin sizzled against
the metal, sending a stream of smoke up from the wound. It howled as best as it could with its
jaw hanging open. Only one metal could do this to it. Iron, another one of its weaknesses.
The lady that threw the knife prepared another one. She was a tall, slim lady dressed in all
black, black flat heeled boots, black tight jeans, black bustier, over a black blouse, a black
leather dust coat and black gloves. It would have been perfect camouflage if it wasn’t for her
pale white skin and short bright red hair. It didn’t matter she had what she came for.
The troll was unsure of what to do. A young troll like this one, in its fifties, was only used to
seeing its victims backing away, never attacking. When its victims attacked it was usually
with weapons that hurt less than this. It’s jaw clasped back into place. Its moment of
confusion was short lived. There was only one way to deal with insolence like this.
It roared at the top of its lungs.
It charged at the lady. She flipped the knife in her hand and threw it at the troll hitting it just
above the knee. The troll tripped and landed before the lady. Nothing but pain on its mind as
the four knives burnt through its body, sizzling like morning bacon.
The pain drove it insane.
It swung the machete from side to side in the general direction of where the lady had been. It
looked up to find she was out of range. It pulled itself closer and swung again but she had
stepped out of range. The smile that appeared on her serious features taunting it to come
closer. It did. She enjoyed this for a few more minutes before she got tired of it.
She pulled out another knife from the arsenal of knives that were hidden in her dust coat and
threw it at its wrist severing the tendons that held the hand to its arm. Its machete dropped
and its arm sizzled.
The troll realized it couldn’t win. Its foe was too prepared. Even as an illiterate animal it
knew its one course of action. It had to retreat and lick its wounds.
The troll turned onto its back and picked itself up. It hobbled along off the path aiming for the
trees ignoring the little girl that sat crying on the edge of the path. It was in too much pain to
eat. Maybe after it healed it could find another little girl. Or maybe anything it could eat.
The woman was not finished with it.
She ran out in front of it brandishing a sawn-off double barrelled twelve gauge shotgun. The
troll stopped in its tracks, an emotion registered in its mind that it hadn’t felt since it left its
father’s side. Fear. The lady aimed at its chest and fired. Two barrels loaded with iron chips
punched into its chest and ripping its skin and internal organs to sizzling shreds.
The troll fell back. A few phantom spasms rocked its body before it died completely. The
lady removed a short sword from her belt and sliced off its head. She found that the sack she
had carried was too small for it so she resolved to carry it in her hand.
The lady walked back to the little girl, her free hand extended towards her. The little girl
buried her head in her knees when she saw the severed head, a burst of fresh tears soiling her
dress.
‘Hey little girl,’ the lady said as cheerful as her hoarse voice could muster, ‘let’s go home.’