The troll who lives in my garden

It snowed again today. It started with a light dusting of snow, but soon the dull landscape got covered in white... and now just outside the window I hear the authentic sound of winter… can you hear it too?


...it's a jingling crackity-crickity scattering swish in the distant beyond the garden. It sounds like the breaking of thousand tiny glasses under a thousand tiny boots. An army of elves perhaps? Oh, I know better than that! Who would have thought such nonsense? Certainly, no elf, for tiny as they may be, could have make such dreadful noises. In fact, I have a feeling I know what it might be... in that far corner. Can you see it too?


I should have stayed home; snuggled by the roaring fire in my cozy refuge, but a force bigger than myself is pushing me on, to go forward... to go outside... to the garden. I have no other choice than to obey it.


It is cold out here... very cold. The skies have a leaden lowness to them and the winds are chilly. As I keep walking I see trees swaying under paper-pale surroundings, and under my feet pure white piercing the flesh with thousand icy knives.




I’m almost certain that a troll lives in my garden. If you have never seen one, winter trolls are as bleak as snow and as rigid as ice. Trolls like the Northern troll Barbegazi, do not come out until the first snowfall, they’re winter creatures, and are rarely sighted by humans, but I have this strange feeling that a winter troll inhabits my garden... Ah yes, he dwells among the underground caves beneath my garden, and on certain days, on those dreary winter days when the sun hides from us human and the landscape dresses in white, I can see him lurking among the bushes. But oh there's more than that... I can feel him too; I am trapped in his frigid gizzards!

Early one morning many moons ago I went out to the garden to collect my thoughts. People were inside their cozy homes sleeping, or just starting to wake up. They didn't know that something monstrous was arising... but I knew. Ah yes, the troll was coming up! 

Suddenly, everything turned quiet and ominous, not a bird was seen fluttering around the bird feeders, not a mourning dove searching the frozen ground for a spare seed... only that dreadful sound of snow cracking under an evil foot beyond the garden. The huge foot print I saw engraved in the snow was enough to send a cold chill running down my spine.

So there I was... so close to such an eerie creature I almost fainted. I could smell him, and I could see his pupils sending out silent dreadful messages.
Unable to think or do anything but try to escape, I scrambled through the bushes as best as I could and run back home...


Running running; running back towards safety I went... across the valley floor I ran; up the little hill behind the garden like a stallion I went; over the field, through the garden, through the gate... unmindful of what I was leaving behind... Hurry! The troll is coming! That was all I could think of!


I was almost home when finally I decided I should turned around to make sure the troll hadn't followed me... that's when I thought I saw someone... another troll? Oh dear me!It was a woman! A woman as ashen and horrid as the Abominable Snow Man himself rambled behind the winter troll... from where I was standing I could see how the stalactites around her started to drip and how every droplet of water left a mineral laden trace on the ground.


She paused for a moment to contemplate the fragile shafts of sunlight that pierced the shrubbery, casting multiple shadows on the ice-covered ground. She looked fascinated by its luster, and then I saw her reaching out her arm to try to catch the tiny rivulets of water trickling from a tree branch, like tears to the frozen land... she looked sad to me.

Who was this gloomy creature?—I thought. 

All a sudden I had this odd sensation I knew who she was... yes yes yes, it had to be the Snow Bride!—the poor poor woman given as companion to the Abominable Snow Man by the most terrible of all terrible, the sinister Winterlord.
 
 Some people in my village don’t believe in these things, but if you come to my garden you’d know that everything I’m saying is plain truth, and the honest truth is that the supernatural do happen here in my garden. You would probably see the usual trees, the usual flowers and usual shrubbery, but there’s always more than meet the eyes in everything. In reality, the whole garden is waiting patiently—waiting for the precise moment to awake and greet the unnatural.

But don’t you be frightened by this! You see, not everyone can see or perceive the unnatural world. Only some people do. Perhaps I can sense and see what for most would pass unseen because I’m different. 

I was born as the old grandfather clock chimed midnight, on a night when the earth's circle of illumination followed the summer solstice. Perhaps I see these things because my first breath coincided with the blistering breath of summer as it came up from under the ground wrapping us into the new season, and thus, my eyes were opened by sunshine. The sun guides my footsteps. But the eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend. The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. 

It is written on the blanket of snow where my feet sink, in the shape of wings printed on the snow, some strands of dust, like fairy dust on bright summer nights, a scent... there is no words to describe my life...


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