Another month, another entry into the Scottish Book Trust’s 50 Words Competition. I think this one is sound, though having already submitted it I do wish I’d thought to do the second version below.
“Fine,” said the greedy troll. “I’ll wait for your brother, who you say will be tastier.”
The little goat smiled with relief and scampered along the bridge.
“However,” said the troll, snatching the goat and hoisting him over its mouth, “I’m (apparently) greedy and could use an hors d’oeuvre.”
The troll leaned back against the bridge’s railing and picked at his teeth with a tiny goat rib. A satisfied burp escaped from his mouth and wafted away.
The trouble with goats, he thought, is that you always want a bit more when you’re done.
Obligingly he heard the clicking of hooves on his bridge…