The Sweetest Trolls #19 - Memories part 2 - #FridayFlash

This is the 19th installment of the Troll Serial. To read from the beginning, or to find past and future installments, click here.

*

“Who’s your family?” asked Aimee in her gentlest tone.

“Kutril,” he replied. “My dad, and my mom.”

Kratan didn’t elaborate, so Aimee made a pause to reflect on that information. So Kutril was family? How would a troll family be? Considering that neither Kutril nor Kratan were ordinary trolls, their family shouldn’t be either. Kratan kept staring at nothing so she peeked at the deep cave through the fire light again. The chambers looked like rooms, if you considered the possibility of a troll family. There were two entries at one side, and two larger ones at the other. She’d have a look when she would be able to walk again.

Kratan grumbled something as if he was reliving old memories. He shook his head and hit himself with his fists.

“What’s happening?” coached Aimee.

“Mom’s not well...”

“What does she have?”

“She’s hurting… dad’s not here… No! Don’t hurt Kutril! No, no!” Kratan shook violently, tears running free down his cheek.

“Kratan?” said Aimee, with a knot in her throat.

“Mummy is bad, mummy’s bad!” was his reply.

“Where’s your dad? Can’t he help?”

“He’s out for help, but mummy’s nails are so big… She’s hurting Kutril. Stop, mom! Why is she laughing so hard?” Kratan wailed and rocked, scratching and banging his head alternately on the wall.

“Mom, stop hurting yourself! Muuuumy!”

“What happened?”

“She’s gone and Kutril is hurt. Must get some bandages.” Kratan stood and hushed to one of the larger chambers. Aimee saw him carry an armful of bandages to one of the small ones. He stayed there for a long time and she dozed off.

She woke up with someone sniffing at her. “Hmm, time for a snack,” said Kratan with his evilest grin.

Aimee started and grunted in pain. She stayed very still while he frowned at the scent of herbs and turned to the half-cooked body by the fire. He took an arm off and threw at her. She squeaked and looked up in horror.

“This has been too close to the fire. Why don’t you have a bite?” His mouth twitched between amusement and disgust. She shook her head, tears threatening to come out. “I agree this is not as pleasant as fresh food, but I can’t waste it, can I?” She pressed her lips together so no sound would come out. “Or maybe I should start off with you?” He smiled widely at her, but didn’t move. She tried not to stare at him while he fed and resumed their conversation, to see if she would be able to extract more information.

“Do you know where your mom is?” Kratan stopped mid-bite and looked wide eyed at her. She cringed internally at his reaction but managed to maintain a neutral face.

“Mother is dead,” he replied neutrally between bites. “She’s been for a long time now.”

“What about your father?” Aimee’s breaths came out in shallow gasps, but she couldn’t let this opportunity pass.

“Oh, the old fart is pretty much alive. He’s giving me so many playing opportunities!” While he laughed there was a flicker of light in his eyes and he shook his head. His voice came out deeper this time, “Too bad I couldn’t finish him off on our last encounter.”

“What about Kutril? Don’t you miss him?”

“Kutril…”

Kratan dove into his mind again, dropping his food. At some point the fruits Aimee ate gave signal of having worked through her system. She didn’t remember having used the bathroom ever since she was captured; how long has it been? Maybe it was only now that her body was recovering from the shock. Kratan’s herbs must be working.

Kratan was crouched with his head firmly set between his knees, his hands protectively put above his head. “Kratan?” No response. “Kratan, I need to… I need to pee.” Aimee blushed violently, but the troll didn’t look up. “Is there a bathroom here?” He pointed to the small chamber in the farthest corner. She sighed in relief, not wanting to imagine what the other Kratan would do. Aimee tried to get up, but the pain was too much for her. “I can’t… I can’t walk.”

Kratan stood up with veiled eyes and gingerly carried her to the bathroom. He left her there to balance herself in the darkness in front of the large gully. She thanked Holy Mary for its existence and for the old wooden cover that creaked loudly when she closed it with no little effort. She realized that she hadn’t prayed a single time these days, and chastised herself mentally for such negligence. Slowly, she limped out to see no Kratan to take her back. The fire light wasn’t strong enough for her to see where she was stepping so she bumped her naked feet on rocks and slumps, her right hand supporting her weight on the back wall. After a few steps she stopped, panting, and slid down the murky wall. She joined her hands together and prayed for help, for Kratan and his family, and for her own. The tears’ warmth contrasted with her body’s shivering cold. 

*

<< Back to episode 18                   Go to episode 20>>

Go to the beginning

The Sweetest Trolls #18 - Memories, part 1 - #FridayFlash

This is the 18th installment of the Troll Serial. To read from the beginning, or to find past and future installments, click here.


This episode has a few references to previous scenes that I couldn't resist pointing you to. I've added links in the text to identify them; however, I've also added a list of links and the episodes they refer to, so the links won't get in the way of your reading. :)

*

Kratan headed northwest, passing through the first clearing and confirming his early suspicions that De Faumont had been there. He recognized his faint smell, as well as his horse’s. He maintained direction and grudgingly crossed the river, waking up the unconscious Aimee when tripping in a hidden rock.

Aimee groaned and looked around dizzily. She wondered if that river was the same where the trolls had forcefully bathed because of her garlands. Kratan turned east and then southward, following the river from the other side. Shortly, Aimee could see a castle’s light, surrounded by an enormous half-moon shaped city which end she couldn’t see. It was very disorienting to watch it all from upside down. As she knew from merchants’ descriptions, this should be the capital, the king’s diamond belt she had dreamed to see her whole life.

However, the effort was too much for her and darkness engulfed her. She woke again with a small rock falling on her neck. Kratan had moved her and she was on top of Velin’s body. She twitched, startled with the leathery skin below her.

“Quiet, girl, or I’ll drop you off.”

Aimee glared at Kratan’s back in response, and got dizzy again. Letting her body loose, she took a deep breath and decided to investigate her surroundings in a safer fashion. This caused only another wave of vertigo and a deep chill running up and down her spine. She was facing a dark abyss that seemed having no end. The pain and the cadaver’s smell made her sick. Velin was showered one last time as Kratan climbed a waterfall and headed south with great stealth. He put her and her companion down only when they arrived in a cave, leaving her alone in the dark. He came back shortly with enough wood to keep the fire up for days.  

She woke up with the sun’s brightness dazing her. Kratan was at the other side of the dying fire, protected by the shadows. Velin’s body was entangled with her. It took her such a great effort to free herself that she concluded that flight was impossible. Once again she’d have to be rescued. She punched the floor in frustration and grunted in pain. Breathing hard she directed her attention to her surroundings.

She learned that they were at the entry of a cave with one large chamber downwards and several small entries. A worn out path into the darkness called her attention, but for now she resigned to her fate and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Kratan shook her off the bliss of forgetfulness. “Eat,” he said, while throwing at her an armful of fruits. She devoured them in a twisted dejà vu, looking up to him only when she was able to slow down. He was watching her with an empty gaze. She could not read his emotions for the first time and it scared her.

“I can’t have you getting thinner than you already are,” he said. “I like juicy bones, you know?” He grinned, but there was no glee in it.

She cocked her head, wondering the reasons for this other change. Kratan wasn’t having the usual fun on abusing her mentally. She pondered if their new location had anything to do with it but it was too soon to draw any conclusions. She would be patient, she decided, the nights were getting longer and she doubted help would come any soon.

The next night she decided to investigate. “Where are we?” she asked.

Kratan looked up startled. He searched the cave with an empty gaze and turned to her, still unfocused, “Not sure.”

She was so bewildered with his answer that she gaped at him until his head went down again. She rubbed her chin and after some pondering she tried a different strategy. “Kratan?” He looked up slowly. “My side hurts. I think I broke something.” No reaction. “Would you mind searching for something to help? If there are fruits around here, there might be herbs to make a cataplasm…” He stood up mechanically and left.

Looking at his back, she noticed that the sun was still a thin line in the horizon. With a chilled grip in her stomach she realized he would have walked right into the sun in this strange state. She’d have to keep an eye on him.

It was pitch dark when Kratan came back. He chewed several different herbs Aimee couldn’t identify in the dim light, and spit on the mixture. He went to one of the cave’s inner chambers and retrieved a large roll of bandages, to which he applied the concoction. He kneeled down beside her and lowered it, pausing when rubbing his fingers against her dress. He stayed there robotically, with unseen eyes.

Aimee mustered courage for a few moments. Slowly, she undressed her upper body, shyly covering her breasts with one arm. He lifted her other arm to discover that her whole hind was black and there was a strange protuberance in it. She saw a flicker of life in Kratan’s eyes and almost yelped, but he calmly put the bandage down and looked neutrally to her. “You’ve got a broken rib. This is going to hurt a bit.” Before she could reply he covered her mouth with one hand and poked at her rib pointedly with his index. The bone clacked into place and she shrieked in pain, tears rolling down freely. Kratan placed the medicine gently on her wound, and tightened the bandage comfortably around her shivering body. He then laid her down ever so slowly and left her breathing hard on her make up bed.

He sat down on the other side of the fire, shoulder and head supported by the thick wall. As soon as Aimee could move again she asked, head turned to him, “What are you thinking about, Kratan?”

Absent mindedly, he replied, “My family.”

*

<< Back to episode 17                   Go to episode 19 >>

Go to the beginning

This is a list of links to previous events mentioned in this episode:

1) Kratan's suspicions about the first clearing - epi. #14 Bell Alarm

2) Trolls taking a bath because of Aimee's garlands - epi. #3 The Most Horrid Torture

3) Ravenous Aimee and her dejà vu - epi. #2 - Landy's Hands

The Sweetest Trolls #17: First Gathering - #FridayFlash

This is the 17th installment of the Troll Serial. To read from the beginning, or to find past and future installments, click here.

*

Monsieur Velin didn’t like his assignment. Although he was sure that the stone trolls could not get deader than they were, he didn’t know what to think of the third troll. He did trust De Faumont though; he didn’t believe such modest prince would be bragging about something he hadn’t done. He was mulling about the discussion he'd had with the others at the barn, his gaze lost on the rising moon, when Kreptus grunted.

“Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, I’m too old for this!”

Velin turned, gaping at the white beared troll and at Kutril, who scratched his head and yawned. Velin stepped back, breath held, and babbled, “Ho-how?”

Kreptus scanned the petrified man from head to toe and waved him off, “Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you. What’s your name again?”

“Eh?”

“Name! You do have a name, don’t you?”

“Ah, I do…” Velin’s gaze raised to Kutril, who had stood up and whose head was above Kreptus’s, right behind him.

“Then sa–”  Before Kreptus could extract that simple information, Velin was grabbed from behind by Kratan, whose eyes shone despite the darkness. The more Velin struggled, the more Kratan pressed his hand on the man’s face. Velin’s eyes were rolling on his head as his limbs were getting heavier and heavier by the second.

“Let him go!” shouted Kutril. “You’re killing him!” Kreptus stepped aside, so the two of them could face their foe. The thought that Kutril was now an enemy weighted like a ton on Kreptus’s heart.

Kratan grinned at his once closest friend, “So? It seems you’ve provided me a good meal for the night.” He cracked the man’s neck and threw his body on the side of the road, looking defiantly into Kreptus’s eyes.

The old troll looked tired and weak. His pride and strength seemed to have been drained by the evil counterpart of his protégé.

“What are you doing, Kratan?” he asked, shoulders slumped. “Don’t you see that you have become everything you most feared?”

“Why, uncle,” his voice was filled with sarcasm, “I’m grabbing a good piece of meat, just as you taught me.” Kratan put his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side.

“I did not –” Kreptus started to reply.

“Kratan!” interrupted Kutril and stepped forward, arms stretched and teary eyes. Kreptus raised his arms, blocking Kutril’s way, and shook his head, eyes set on Kratan’s.

“But, uncle, Katran needs our help!”

“I need your help? You’ve gotta be kidding me!” said Kratan, and roared with laughter.

Not having his club with him, Kreptus lurched with his fists, not wanting to give Kratan space to put in motion whichever plan he had. Kutril stood there, his chin falling limb like Velin’s body, his eyes alternating between his uncle’s incredible fighting ability, which he never imagined him having, and Kratan’s strength and speed, which he'd never had before.

Even before attacking Kratan, Kreptus knew there was no hope of defeating him on his own. He prayed Kutril would be scared away by the fighting, but he seemed paralyzed. He cursed himself mentally for underestimating Kutril’s surprise and braced himself for death. Kratan felt the defeat inside his uncle and increased his blows, while Kreptus got slower and weaker. Kreptus's eyes were swallowed, his ribs hurt and he was getting too tired to dodge Kratan's punches. Hit by hit, Kreptus pondered why Kratan wasn’t using his club to finish him off more quickly. Was he having fun, or was it the sign that there was still hope?

Kreptus fell on his knee and searched in vain for Kutril. He wanted to apologize for not having told him the truth, for leaving him and Kratan to their faith, for not being a good… Kratan’s last punch knocked him to the floor. As he gradually lost conscience he heard the sound of hoofs approaching. Why did they sound familiar?

De Faumont arrived in full armor, his sword ready and his eyes set. He crowed a thank you to the bird above and made a slicing movement to decapitate Kratan while his horse jumped over Kreptus. Kutril yelped and jumped to the side, making room for the horse and knight to pass. While De Faumont assessed Kutril readjusting his horse's position, Kratan picked up his club and copied one of his uncle’s fighting stances. De Faumont dismissed Kutril and lurched forward, sword pointing at Kratan’s neck from above his shield. Kratan dodged his attack and hit De Faumont’s horse with such force that the beast flew two meters, passing over Kreptus without touching him. Kratan looked about himself in surprise while De Faumont released his feet, jumped on the spinning horse and landed safely on the ground. He then looked up and smiled at the horse’s whining and De Faumont’s fear. He smelled delicious. Kratan wondered how he could retain a man’s body freshness without cooking it. Or maybe he could share part of De Faumont with Aimee.

They sparred for a long time, sword against club, club against shield, fist against shield. They were incredibly fast, thought the amazed Kutril, who could do nothing but watch and hope that his uncle was still alive. Only when the moon had raised a third of its way the fighters’ attacks started to slow down. Kreptus grunted for the second time that night while waking. He joined the fight, punching Kratan from different and unexpected angles, but the troll was too fast. Kratan managed to keep both opponents at bay, even though they seemed to know what the other was going to do before it was done.

De Faumont laughed aloud at the sound of new hoofs arriving, but in his glee he got distracted for the split of second necessary for Kratan to hit him. De Faumont fell to the ground unconscious, Kreptus paused in surprise and Kratan took the opportunity to flee, taking Velin’s body with him and a hidden woman, who screamed in pain and horror.

*

<< Back to episode 16                   Go to episode 18 >>

Go to the beginning

Emma Newman's Week - Underestimated - #FridayFlash

Understand why the fuss, HERE.
Picture credits on this post.

In continuation to Emma Newman's Week, I present you a story featuring one of her characters from her anthology, From Dark Places. 



Emma's week will close up with a review of one of her books, and you don't want to miss her interview here at randomities.  Stay tunned! 

*

They were crouched in a small balcony, cornered at the 15^th floor apartment, their opponent closing on them.

“See what happens when you come up with this humanity crap?” whispered Pete. “The last time I heard I should act more like a human being or some bullshit like that, I almost got killed.” To the girl’s set face and trembling lips he continued, “You have no idea the kind of shit I’ve seen, rookie. Now where’s the holy water I gave you?”

She lifted her hand to the mouth, eyes widening. “You didn’t lose it, did you?” asked Pete. Blond slick hair blurred the girl’s face. “Where’s it then?”

“Yes, where’s that little bottle of salvation?” said Gerome, his mouth twitching up in a sardonic smile.

Pete lost color, his pallor matching Gerome’s. All of Anna’s body froze up, except for her eyes, which moved up to the bum’s void eyeballs.  Her nose reacted and she instinctively pressed it with her fingers to prevent the horrid smell from absorbing all her attention.

“I’m disappointed at you, Pete,” continued Gerome. “I’d expect the girl to underestimate me, but not such an experienced hunter as yourself.”

“How do – ?”

“Yet again you misjudge me.” Gerome sighed and dismissed the crouching girl passing by him on her fours. “You should have noticed my accent and the fact that my mouth didn’t smell as foul as my clothes.”

“What else do you know?”

Gerome laughed. “Do you believe I’d tell you?”

Pete stood up to face the monster. “You parasite piece of shit. You shouldn’t believe I’d rely only on a clumsy stupid girl.”

He thrust his hand inside his pants but the beggar was too fast; he grabbed Pete’s wrist and pushed him forward, making him hit the balcony’s cold metal. Pete’s back hurt both from the impact and the odd angle of his spine. Gerome was so close that he could see the scars where his eyes were once placed. The vampire extracted his fangs and went for Pete’s neck, forcing him to lean back even more.

Better dead than undead, he thought. Pete used his free hand to change his balance but he wasn't strong enough, so it only caused him more pain. Gerome noticed his attempt and chuckled, an inch from his jugular. Then he opened his mouth wider, and Pete closed his eyes.

Gerome’s scream was so loud that Pete would have fallen off if not for his free hand clutching the balcony’s bar. The vampire released him and stepped back; Pete reacted instinctively and threw his flask’s content on Gerome’s chest, who danced at the sound of hissing holy water.

Breathing hard, Pete looked up to see Anna setting an arrow to a black crossbow. His mouth hanged open as she pointed, aimed and fired. Gerome fell with a thud and Pete slid down in front of his extended hand.

He followed her approach with blank eyes. Only when she shook him by the shoulders he managed to focus on her concerned grey pools.

“Are you out of your freaking mind? Do you know how hard it is to get the heart, even at short distance? You could have killed me!”

She released him hastily, losing her balance and sitting in Gerome’s mummified hand. She yelped and stood up too fast, dizzily stepping in Pete’s foot, and grabbed the balcony’s bar for support. Pete shouted in pain.

“Oh, sorry!” She extended her hands towards him but he growled back something unintelligible. “I do know how hard it is, and I have been practicing.”

“Where was the fucking holy water, anyway?”

“In the living room.” She pointed, pouting. “It fell from my hand when Gerome showed his fangs for the first time.” She looked up to avoid meeting his gaze.

Pete snorted and asked, “Did you ever consider that Gerome could have kneeled or something? I was right in your shooting line!”

“Oh, vampires are fast…”

“Yes, darling. They’re freaking fast!”

“Will you please stop shouting? You are alive, aren’t you?”

Pete sighed. “How the heck do you have a crossbow at home, anyway?”

Anna cleared her throat before replying, “I descend from a long line of hunters. I don’t think they’d have taken me in otherwise…” She lowered her head.

Silence fell until the stench of decay mixed with the odor of the beggar’s clothes was too much for them.

“Gimme a hand.”

She helped Pete up and they called headquarters. After letting the cleaning crew in, they left, keeping silent until the bright lights of the E.R. entry shone on their faces to wake them up from their reveries.

“Pete?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m worried that Gerome knew so much about you.”

“Yeah.” Pete shuddered, and grunted in pain.

*

Note: I apologize for the feel of incompleteness this story gives. Since Pete is not my original character I didn't want involve him in any "definitive" situation. If you'd like to read more of him, he's featured in the Emma's story "The Victim" in her anthology From Dark Places.


Oh, and I was the one who put the cursing in Pete's mouth. Just for the record. ;P

*

Emma drinks too much tea, has too many ideas and writes too many stories. You can find out more about her debut novel '20 Years Later' here. She blogs and gets up to all kinds of writing mischief at www.enewman.co.uk.

'From Dark Places' is available in print and e-book book formats. You can buy a signed copy from her website and if you like dark short stories, join Em's Short Story Club to get an original short story for free in your inbox every month.

Emma has recorded audio books for publishers and has narrated short stories for fiction podcasts. To find out more about her voice work go to www.enewman.co.uk/voice. You can  also find Emma on Twitter: @emapocalyptic.

The Sweetest Trolls #16: The Finding - #FridayFlash

This is the 16th installment of the Troll Serial. To read from the beginning, or to find past and future installments, click here.

*

Aimee averted her eyes.

“Look at me, or I’ll make you share my meal.” She raised her head. “There,” said Kratan, and smiled. Aimee lifted her hand, covering her mouth and nose with it.

Through her hands she asked, “What are you going to do with me?”

Kratan licked his lips and sucked the last remaining bone, throwing it in careless aside before answering, “Why, I’m going to eat you, of course!”

Aimee frowned, not wanting to show how scared she really was, cold sweat forming in her hands. Although her head was directed to this new Kratan, she turned her attention inwardly to consider De Faumont’s sign at the village. She could not understand what he had meant. Did he know what was going on? Or was he just trying to calm her down? Was he aware of this new danger? She gazed at her feet, feeling the absence of the fire Kutril would have built, and decided that she wanted old Kratan back, prince charming or no prince charming to the rescue.

“What’s happened?” she asked defiantly.

“What do you mean?” he dodged.

“Don’t act stupid. You’ve changed and I want to know how it happened. Where’s Kutril?”

“Oh, the little dame in distress is showing her teeth, eh?” he said getting up. Before Aimee could open her mouth, he was looking down into her eyes, his teeth inches from her nose. She recoiled both in fear and disgust.

“I... I just…”

“What? Not so brave now?”

Aimee swallowed hard and looked up his hollow eyes, “I thought we were friends.”

Kratan stood up and hip cuffed, his smile unnaturally broad. He looked up and let his laughter roar throughout the hiding place, shaking the ground above them. With his hands in his hips he replied, “You are so naïve, little dame! I bet you’ll taste as good as the crying boy. Will you cry before I eat you? I like salty food.”

Aimee gulped down again but did not give up, “What about Kutril? He is your friend, isn’t he?”

Kratan’s smile vanished. He stared at her for a long time, seeming lost in thought. She didn’t dare breaking his reverie and when he turned his back to her to rest for the day, she smiled. She had planted a tiny seed she hoped would grow inside him in time. She didn’t keep her hopes up though.

It took the villagers the whole night to put off the fire at the Mayor’s house, which by the morning was left into ruins. Although Madam Daussy and her father in law were rescued in time, she was still unconscious and the old man was frailer than ever.

“But papà, you never left your room anyway, why ask for father Pélerin?” The Mayor patted his father’s hand. “You’ll see, you’ll get better and live to see Aimee married to a nobleman as Agnes always wanted.” He showed his teeth in a poor attempt of smile.

The old man gazed up from the Velin’s family’s bed right into Daussy’s eyes, and then looked aside. The Mayor’s chin met his chest and a heavy silence fell between them.

De Faumont labored to prevent panic to settle on the villagers’ hearts, as well as on his own. He had never seen such audacity in a troll, not even in the evilest ones he had encountered before. He set to organize a search group, a night watch, and a rebuilding group. All this was more to have the peasants busy than anything else. He also dispatched a second bird to ask for reinforcement and a third to his uncle.

At mid-afternoon he received an answer that help was on their way. When he finished crowing a compliment to the bird, there was a wide eyed young man in front of him, changing feet impatiently. Upon having his presence acknowledged, he bowed hastily and pointed to the road, “Please come, Monsieur Le Prince. You must see this!”

Without word he followed the young hammer, praying to his ancestors to send him good news. He almost smiled when he was received by a loud cheering, but lost the little color his face held when seeing two trolls turned into stone in the middle of the road to the castle, just outside the village. The man’s cheering died instantly, being replaced by a mix of worried and puzzled faces.

“What’s the problem, my Lord? Shouldn’t we be celebrating that the trolls are dead?” asked Monsieur Depré.

It took De Faumont a moment to gather his thoughts around the question, “This is worse than I thought,” he said, almost to himself. “Much worse.” He finally looked up to the men and explained, “Don’t you see? These trolls were placed here to be found. They were unconscious before the sun came up.”

“Who would put them there?” asked someone to his right.

De Faumont looked down to hide his shame and his grief, “A third troll.”

There was a commotion, which the Mayor was unsuccessful to control. Some people shouted against the troll’s mischief, but most whispered doubts about De Faumont’s ability in dealing with such monsters. Perhaps the tales of his feats were false, planted by him to make himself famous and respected. 

De Faumont heard none of that. He gave a loud and anguished bird-like cry and turned back to the village. He paused after a few steps to meet the stunned faces.

“Come,” he summoned. The faces sobered up and followed.

*

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