BOD author Ann Christy won this week’s Writing Prompt over in the group. Check out the original post here and then read Ann’s winning story below!
“That’s ridiculous!” Emma cried. “There are no trolls. And if there were, they wouldn’t live on top of bridges, but under them.” She rolled her eyes at Gary. He might be twelve and she nine, but she wasn’t a baby.
“It’s true. I swear,” he said, an annoyingly superior look on his face.
“Then prove it.” The ultimate challenge issued, she crossed her arms and leaned back against the bridge.
Gary huffed, momentarily at a loss, then hissed, “Fine. Tonight!”
Emma woke in a panic, Gary’s hand over her mouth. When she saw her brother, she pushed him away, sat up in bed and punched him in the chest.
“What’s that for?” he half-whined, half-whispered, rubbing the spot.
She waved him off, got up and dressed. Silently, they snuck downstairs, donned their outerwear and left the house. At the bridge, their flashlights darted about, chasing creepy night sounds.
“Let’s go.” His voice was shaky, perhaps reconsidering this course of action.
Emma felt victory close at hand and winning would be delicious. She wasn’t having any wavering. She charged toward the bridge’s center, her boots clomping loudly.
Gary hesitated, then followed. Under the little building, Emma faced him. She felt brave now, convinced of her rightness. He’d tried to scare her. He’d lost. Emma shone her light up toward the hole in the building’s bottom. Nothing peered back, no croaking voice demanded a toll.
“See,” she said.
Gary started, his flashlight bouncing around, his breathing suddenly harsh. “Shh. I heard something.”
Again, Emma rolled her eyes, patience gone. Then Gary squeaked and crouched a little, fear blossoming on his face. Emma looked up again and saw what he saw. A pair of orange eyes framed by a green face leaned out of the hole above. Then another pair. Then another.