My contribution to Sue’s photo prompt this week sees the return of an old, em, youngish old friend Little Troll. Like many trolls he lives under a bridge in a tardis like home but that’s where the similarity ends. He’s not a typical example of his kind, what troll has refined tastes in food, literature and the arts? Little Troll’s real name is rather unpronounceable by all but the most determined of linguists. That is, one who’s taken advantage of the local hostelry’s hospitality for several hours and now lies blubbering in the corner calling for his mum. A tad overstated you may think but trollish is quite a difficult dialect to master. Little Troll’s human name is Bob. In Bob’s last adventure he treated himself to a night out on the town with friends; huddling over exquisite hot chocolate and treating himself to a lot of books. An ordinary event you would think. These rare forays into the world of humans go without incident. Which was the case on this occasion. Except, his party was being followed.

The lone figure kept in the shadows, their bright red eyes glowing like molten lava. The figure also appeared to be limping badly. At one point when the party were perusing the Christmas market stalls; the mysterious figure took this opportunity to slip a small business card in Bob’s pocket. It lay in his coat pocket for a year until this moment.

Bob was spring-cleaning his wardrobe and came across the card. It was made of the finest vellum and etched in gold paint on the front were the words “A N Other, Plumber.” Surely this was a joke? He peered closely at the card because the words were shimmering and then disappeared. In their place appeared something he wasn’t expecting, “Flavius, Arch Mage, Necromancer and Bookseller. Please email for prices of Exorcisms. Sliding scale of fees for the severely distressed.”

Continue reading: Bridge of Sighs by Jan Malique #writephoto