Between Chapters

Princess Amanda skipped through the forest. The glittering sunlight, that peppered the leafy canopy, caught her raven hair and gave it an ethereal glow.

She followed the cobbled road that cut through the grassy carpet, until she reached the river, which was crossed only by bridge. It was a rickety wooden construction, old and out of place amongst the beauty of the greenery that reached from her feet up to the sky.

She placed her slippered foot on the bridge’s first wizened plank, when she heard a roar. Standing in front of her was a troll. It’s grey face upturned in cruel hunger, it’s scaled skin seeping with slime from the stream below. In it’s gnarled hand, a club made of bone.

‘I have never had a dinner as pretty as thee,’ it said. It’s cat-like eyes widening as it slouched closer.

Princess Amanda stood her ground. With an exasperated sign, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she commanded.

The troll was taken aback; he was not used to his lunch demanding anything from him before it was eaten.

‘This is my bridge,’ he meekly replied.

‘You are not supposed to be her,’ she said, clearly unamused. ‘This is a historical romance. This is medieval Portugal. I am the Princess Amanda. Waiting for me in the next chapter is a knight named Pablo, who intends to ravish me. Now, if you don’t mind getting out of my way, I’m late already and I’m rather looking forward to it.’

The troll, not being the smartest of creatures, scratched his head.

‘This isn’t a trick is it?’ he asked. ‘Amanda doesn’t sound very Portuguese.’

‘Blame the author,’ she snapped, ‘not me! How many people do you who name themselves?’
The troll didn’t answer. He was too busy starring at his hands, his brain searching for reasons to prove that they really existed.

‘If you would excuse me,’ she said, breaking the silence, ‘I must be going. It’s not right for royalty to be held up by imaginary creatures.’

The troll began to sob. He watched, through tear filled eyes, the back of the Portuguese princess stride off into the distance.

‘Please tell me you’ve seen a talking goat? Or any goat at all!’ he shouted imploringly. She did not answer.

He sat on the side of the bridge, his long legs dipping their toes into the cool waters below. His grubby hands massaged his temples as he tried to soothe the emptiness that consumed him.

‘Mother was right, he said to no one but himself. ‘I should have been a Frog Prince.’