Troll Under the Bridge

This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. A new take on an old tale.


“We can’t cross it,” Sherrie whispered to Rachel. “He’ll get us if we do!”

“Don’t be silly, Sherrie. There is no troll under this bridge. That was just a fairy tale.”

Sherrie studied the old bridge, trying to see underneath without actually getting any closer. She knew Rachel thought she was being a baby, but that troll under the bridge story really scared her. This bridge looked old enough a troll would like it, so she was not crossing it first.

“You go first then,” she told Rachel, pushing her forward.

“Oh, alright!” Rachel said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ll see there’s nothing under this old bridge.

Rachel stepped to the edge of the bridge and halted. She would never admit it to Sherrie, but the story got to her a little too. She didn’t really believe trolls lived under bridges, but this one was old and rotten looking.

Drawing a deep breath, Rachel made the first step onto the bridge. It creaked under her weight, but nothing jumped out, so she proceeded. Sherrie watched, warily eyeing the bushes under the bridge for any sign of movement.

Rachel made it half way across, when a terrible thrashing ensued under the bridge. She screamed, ran back to Sherrie, grabbed her hand, and led her back toward home.

Neither of them noticed the family of rabbits hop from under the bridge and flee into the woods.