Sheola and Ikol were arguing.
Picture it.
She-hell: and rather lovely too in an interesting, hellish kind of way, with largish, boorish, frankly utterly hacked-off giant in tow.
Ikol, after a long-ish sulk, was now raging.
Calm down, said Sheola.
Ikol didn’t hear.
We couldn’t stay. There was no way we could stay.
It’s you! he seethed. You and that, that, that ruddy troll! I knew he was trouble, should’ve stamped on him when I had the chance.
As if! she interjected, This one tells the truth… mimicking Ikol now.
You presume too much, he snapped.
And you, she retorted, Pontificate too much.
Ikol glared. But was quiet.
Sheola felt...exhausted. She still had the last of troll's dream in her mind: And could see it still.
(image © Buttersweet, 2006. All rights reserved)
And this from a troll? What had she glimpsed?
She shook her head as it came to her. Incredulous.
The
colour
of
truth?
(© 2006. All rights reserved) if you don't mind.
Hello Trolly:
More outstanding writing. You are almost equivalent to a Beat Writer of the 21 ST century.
Keep up the Outstanding works,
Jess