Writing About Trolls, or Troll-Vial Pursuit

I recently lost two week long word wars to my writer pal, A.L. Brown. But she was exceedingly gracious and allowed me to write a couple of blog posts related to one of my current WIPS: The Monster in My Pocket.

Below, you can read excerpt from the novel, from the point of view of my favorite troll, Brug. You can read the related blog post here. Look forward to another excerpt and another linked blog post, soon.

Chapter One

     Deep in the mountain-spotted wilderness, sometimes the scent of wild oregano beckons like a siren across hills and fields where antelope romp freely.

     It's a haunting scent to some, the ghost of something that has no real right to exist: civilization, humanity. But it means more--it means that the smeller has stumbled into a place truly remote, surrounded by evergreens and elderly, weather-beaten quaking aspens.

     And though the filthy city has trammeled its way into our realm, soiling it with warehouses and cities, overtaking our mines and depleting our vast wealth, our realm in this place remains.

     This is the realm of the night-dance, where the wild things wait to snare half-suspecting victims or haggle between themselves for the right to swindle and befuddle, to loot and rampage.

     Tonight it is my night.