Softy the Troll Read online

  Softy the Troll

  Adam Boustead

  Copyright © 2019 Adam Boustead

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or redistributed in any printed or electronic form without prior, written permission of the author

  Acknowledgements

  To my family to whom I owe everything. I love you guys

  Contents

  Dream

  Night Walking

  Blood Ward

  The Club

  Softy

  The Grey Knight

  The Shrine

  The Fey Market

  Silk

  Fairies

  Pusses

  Fix-Its

  Haven

  Charm

  The Other World

  The Arch

  Yeti

  Ice

  The Winter Court

  The King and Queen

  The Ambassador

  About the Author

  Dream

  Jenny softly closed her mum’s bedroom door, not wanting her to know she’d seen her crying. She wanted to go to her and give her a huge hug, but she knew that her mum had to show strength. She could not show weakness in front of her daughter.

  She stepped out of their apartment and onto the fire escape and lit a cigarette, breathing in the smoke and letting out a deep sigh, then giving in to her helplessness and sorrow. Pearly tears started to rain down her face and deep sobs racked her body.

  “Those are not good for you, you know?” came a rasping whisper.

  She dropped the cigarette and angrily ground it out with her scuffed and battered black sneaker. Glancing around, she tried to see where the voice had come from. A large ugly head appeared from below. It had a cap of tightly curling white hair that glimmered in the light cast from the moon and augmented by the street lighting. Sightless pink eyes peered through her.

  “Do not do that to me!” she cried, clutching her chest dramatically.

  “Sorry, did not mean to frighten you. Never meant to do that to anyone,” came the sad reply.

  Jenny tried to stop crying but she could not. So she swiped at her eyes with her sleeve.

  Using his long hairy arms and big spidery hands the large hunchback awkwardly climbed the fire escape and gently wrapped her in a big hug.

  Jenny stood still in surprise. In the five years as neighbours he had never touched her before. She should have been revolted to be hugged by an albino hunchback, a dirty old man, but she was not. Hugged against the rough cotton of his oversized shirt she could feel his rough, curly chest hair and smell his animal musk, and for some reason she felt comforted. Despite herself she began to cry again. Her tears clung to his shirt and chest hair, shining like precious gems.

  “What’s wrong, Amazon? I have never seen you smoke or cry before.

  “Peter,” she moaned.

  “Your bambino brother? I have not seen him for a few days. What about him?”

  “He has gone missing.”

  “What?”

  “He has gone missing. Mum put him to bed seven nights ago and in the morning he was gone. we have looked everywhere but we cannot find him.”

  “Have you spoken to the police?” he asked in a tone of voice that made her wonder if he was uneasy with the police.

  “Yes, they came to the flat and took statements and pictures and everything. They were supposed to do a door to door, did they not talk to you?”

  “No, I must have been asleep. I do not sleep well so I take valerian, an herbal draft that helps me relax and sleep. I sleep better during the day then at night.”

  Was he telling the truth, or had he hidden from them?

  “I am so sorry, I am sure he will turn up soon, safe and sound.”

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Yes, is it working?”

  “No.”

  He hugged her tighter.

  Suddenly he stiffened. Despite the fact that he was bent, he was still taller than Jenny’s five foot one. If he had been able to stand to his full height he would be seven feet tall. His big bulbous nose was just above her hair and he was suddenly sniffing it intensely like some kind of bloodhound.

  “What is it? My hair does not smell, does it? I washed it only yesterday.”

  “It was seven nights ago?”

  “No, I washed it last night.”

  “I mean Peter?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “During the last night of the old moon?”

  “I do not know, why, what is it?”

  He shuffled his big, bare, hairy feet, which were stuffed into big pink floppy slippers. Reaching into his faded and torn blue jeans pocket he pulled out a large coin. He flipped it and to Jenny’s surprise he caught it and ran a long spidery finger across its face. It was unlike any coin Jenny had seen before. It was large, the same size as a two pound coin, and glittered in the low light like silver. The metal was inscribed, so he could feel it, Jenny guessed. On one side it was decorated with a winged angel holding a flaming sword and shield and dressed in armour. As he put it back in his pocket Jenny glimpsed the other side, which was a naked, leering devil.

  “What is it?” she asked. “Do you know something about Peter’s disappearance?”

  “I do not know anything. Come with me,” he said tugging on her shirt sleeve.

  She let him gently guide her down the fire escape and into his flat. She should have been scared at being taken into a strange man’s flat without anyone knowing where she was. For all she knew he was the one who made Peter disappear, but for some reason she could not understand she was not afraid.

  She looked around his flat, full of curiosity, never having been there before. She had often met him in the hall or the communal areas of the flats — their doorstep or on the fire escape, bringing them mail they had missed or had been put through his door by mistake. Sometimes he brought them food he had prepared.

  The layout of the flat was, unsurprisingly, the same as theirs, although instead of a settee there was a low bed and there was no television. Instead, near the head of the bed was some kind of CD player. It was very flat, almost as if it had been squashed.

  “Of course, you cannot watch television, can you?” she asked.

  “I could listen to it if I wanted to, but I prefer my braille and audio books and my music. Wait there, I will get a chair from the kitchen.”

  He pushed open a paper wall partition decorated with oriental dragons in reds and golds, crawling across a blue sky. Jenny caught a glimpse of a small kitchen like their own, with a porcelain sink and a large microwave. She turned and glanced at the CDs and tapes that lined the walls in book cases. There seemed to be all kinds of genres, novels ranging from fantasy to romance and who-done-its. She could also see non-fiction, from the natural world to myths and philosophy, and plenty of poetry of all kinds. The music was just as diverse, from opera to heavy metal.

  He came back in, carrying in a wooden rocking chair. it was painted green and carved with vines covered in flowers and grapes. It looked like it was handmade. Jenny winced as he banged the piece, which looked like it should be in a museum, against the frame of the door as he brought it through and put it down.

  “Thank you. Did you make it?”

  “Alas no, it was made by a friend.”

  “Well, it’s very comfortable.”

  “Thank you, you’re very welcome.”

  “Thank you, but would you not find it more comfortable than sitting on that low futon thing?”

  He smiled his lopsided sad smile, showing sharp teeth and a large tongue. She could smell his breath from across the room. Despite the fact that she was pretty certain he did not smoke, his breath smelt like something that had been burnt.


  “I am uncomfortable whatever position I am in, but thank you for the kind thought.”

  He opened a cupboard and pulled out an old and battered harp. It was plain, unadorned except for the four clawed feet that supported it and allowed it to be free standing. Before Jenny could ask any questions about it he began to play. The music was like the sound of sunlight. The soft sounds combined with the gentle rocking of the chair and all the stress soon lulled her to sleep.

  She dreamed. She was standing in Peter’s room. He was asleep in bed, his blue and green sheets pulled up to his chin, his brown eyes closed. Even though she knew it was a dream she could not help herself from running her fingers through his brown hair. In the waking world this would have woken him, but in the dream he did not stir. His t-rex bedside lamp was on. It was a warm night so his tiny window was open just a crack. His room was on the opposite side of the building from the fire escape and it was too high to be worried about anyone getting in, but as she watched that was what happened. A black bird, a crow or raven — she could not be sure of the type — landed on the narrow ledge outside. She didn’t understand why but she was frightened by this bird. As she watched the bird breathed out a cloud of dark mist that flowed through the window and smothered the night light. Jenny wanted to cry out, even though she knew it must be a dream, but she could not. Then, to her horror, the bird also turned to shadow, flowed through the crack and reformed on Peter’s bed.

  Being the nature of dreams, despite there being no light in the room she could still see as well as if it was day. The shadow seemed to somehow glow with a deeper darkness than the room around it. It was some kind of nightmare. The bird had grown to the size of a large human. Its ragged wings trailed from long scaly arms like huge slashed sleeves. These arms and its feet were tipped with black talons that glowed with deeper darkness. Its head was not that of a bird but was humanoid, with the face of an ancient man drowned at the bottom of the sea. Its ears were pointed, its glowing red eyes cat like. Wicked tusks curled from its mouth and yellow slime dribbled down its face and chest.

  To her horror it reached out, and throwing back the sheets, picked up Peter as if he were nothing in one huge talon and pressed him against its chest. Peter sank into its flesh like it was tar. It turned, and impossibly changed back into shadow fog and flowed out the window. The darkness that was smothering the night light followed, like a dog behind its master.

  Jenny finally let out the scream trapped in her throat.

  “Amazon, you’re having a bad dream, please wake up,” came his voice out of the darkness that was threatening to swallow her. It must have been the remnants of the dream because his voice seemed to resonate and echo with overlapping sounds, like the song of birds, dolphins and wolves, the roaring of tigers and the hissing of many snakes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his big ugly face creased with deep concern. “I am sorry. I meant to soothe you, not give you nightmares. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, it was just a nightmare but it seemed so real. I will be fine.”

  “Stay there, I will get you a drink.”

  Before she could say anything he was gone. it was eerie to see him moving around his home as if he could see. He returned after a while with a mug of steaming tea. She warmed her hands on the mug and took a big sip and nearly gagged as hot liquor burnt its way down her throat.

  “What’s in that?”

  “Whisky. I thought you could do with something medicinal. If you do not like it I can make you a fresh cup without anything in it.”

  “No, this one is fine. I just was not expecting the fire, that’s all.”

  “Sorry, I should have warned you.”

  “That’s okay. Actually, I quite like it,” Jenny said taking another sip.

  He smiled and left to return with another mug for himself.

  “I like the black and white spiral patterns on your mugs.”

  “Thank you, they are my decoration. I did them at a creative workshop many years ago. I know they are not very professional or even very good, but they are the best I can do. Can you tell me about the nightmare?” he asked, his voice going gentle and soft.

  “I do not want to talk about it.”

  “Please tell me. I know this sounds crazy, but it could help find Peter.”

  “How could a nightmare help find Peter?”

  “You would not believe me if I told you. Please, just trust me and tell me about what you dreamed.”

  “Trust you? I hardly know you.”

  He sighed and muttered something under his breath, then reached out and stroked her free hand. To her surprise she found it soothing. Before she knew what she was saying she was telling him everything she could remember about the nightmare, which was most of it. Normally, she did not remember her dreams or nightmares. When she described the monster a look of surprise and anger came on the ugly face.

  “What is it, do you recognise this creature?”

  “No, how could I? It’s a monster from a nightmare. It just reminds me of a nightmare I used to have when I was a child many years ago. Please go on.”

  She finished her story.

  “I am very sorry once again. I did not mean to give you nightmares, but to give you some peace. I am sure Peter will turn up soon, safe and sound.

  Jenny did not answer that. she wanted it to be true, but she did not believe it. She thanked him for all his help and left.

  She listened at her mum’s bedroom door but she could not hear anything. she must have literally cried herself to sleep. With a heavy heart she went bed.

  Night Walking

  She expected that she would not sleep, that she would toss and turn the entire night, but to her surprise she must have slept deeply for several hours. She looked at her alarm clock and saw it was one a.m. Not knowing what had wakened her she decided that she would not get back off to sleep, so she got up and opened her bedroom door to go and make a drink. She started to push open her door when a noise stopped her. It was the creak of the bedroom door across from hers, Peter’s room. Jenny should have rushed to see if her brother had returned from wherever he had been, but before she could the door opened and to her shock White came out.

  Jenny opened her mouth, about to demand to know what he had been doing inside Peter’s room. How had he gotten in, in the first place?

  She had locked the front door, hadn’t she?

  She should have cried out and confronted him, or call for her mum.

  Instead, not knowing why she did so, she hurriedly grabbed her clothes and followed him out of her flat. Locking the door and checking she had locked it she went out onto the fire escape again. She saw White climbing slowly and awkwardly down the fire escape below her. She knew she should call out to him but did not, choosing to follow him. She was certain the rusty old fire escape would do what it always did, creak under her weight like it was going to come loose, and give her away, but for once it made no noise.

  She must have been crazy, to follow a strange man she hardly knew through dangerous streets to who knew where?

  He led her downtown, from their not very wealthy neighbourhood to the really poor, sleazy part of town to where large storage hangers were interspersed with seedy bars and brothels.

  He turned down an alleyway and approached a large metal door. He knocked on it in what was obviously a complex code. After a few minutes the door cracked open and he squeezed through it and it slammed shut behind him. The noise should have echoed down the alleyway but instead it was stifled in a deep silence that was even more disturbing.

  Now what should I do? Should I wait until he comes out?

  She did not like the thought of that, but to go back home would make this entire strange night time journey a total waste of time.

  “Well, well what do we have here?” came a gravelly voice from behind her.

  She whirled around to find herself facing a group of hard faced, feral, leather bound, tattooed and studded gang members. She stepped back in shock and bumped i
nto something. Before she could move away from whatever it was a cold shard of moonlight glittered at her throat. She stiffened at the touch of the knife, wanting to move away from the hand that was crawling across her body.

  “No money, not even a decent mobile,” the man who held her said, throwing the mobile to the ground and kicking it against the wall, probably breaking it.

  “Well, in that case we will just have to get some other kind of payment out of you for trespassing on our turf. I wonder what that could be?” asked the biggest of the thugs with a lecherous grin on his scarred face, a gold tooth glittering in the low light.

  “Let her go or you will wish you had,” came a voice Jenny did, and did not recognise. It sounded like White, but with angry power and authority she had never heard in his voice before.

  He stepped out of the shadows. Was it her imagination or was he taller?

  “Mr White, I am sorry, I did not see you there. Do you know this skirt?” asked the gang member in a surprisingly respectful voice.

  “She is under my personal protection, now let her go.”

  The words were polite and gentle, but there was something very dangerous in his tone. Jenny shivered at his voice, it was like claws sheathed in silk. To her great surprise and relief the man groping her stopped and took the knife away from her neck.

  “We are sorry, we did not know she was with you.”

  “Well she is. Well done for protecting the club as per our agreement, but leave for now. My ward and I would like to be alone.” He reached into a pocket of the large coat he was wearing and removed a very large wad of money, placing it on a low wall in sight of all the gang. Their hunger for it was in some way more frightening than when they had wanted to rape her.

  “Oh, and before you go, if any of you ever rapes anyone you will find your sex organs around your necks. Is that understood?”

  Each member of the gang grunted their understanding, picked up part of the wad and left.

  “Also, please pick up the young lady’s mobile and hand it back to her, would you? Thank you.”