The Troll of Sweden

Benevolent black Swedish heavens, where ancient whispers spring and flourish,

The terrible troll from tales of agony moves with glowing eyes in a gloom.

A beast of dirt and stone lives in deep woodlands where shadows slink and moonlight fears to always flow; a relic from a bygone age.

His eyes were two embers of burning fire, his breath smelled like death and filth, using claws that scratch on stone and roots.

a horrible moan, a guttural scream.

Every day, in the glen, a monument

Night wakes him once more, though; driven by a need for life, he strides heavily into the woodland.

The town whispers his name, for those who stray late and far, a curse, a shadow, fear and disgrace could meet the troll and decide their fate.

Old tales abound in charms and runs of letters.

Still, many have tried and failed; their long, anguished cries of dread show how far the beast is from hurting anything.

Alert yourself to the dusk, the fading light, when day gives way to everlasting darkness, The troll will walk in the night and alter the woodland to his wicked dwelling.

Travel wise, then, take attention to this warning; the monster hides in Sweden’s heart to claim the night and seal your death; you could thus become the next prize for the troll.