In the hollow where shadows crawl,
The trolls awake to claim them all.
With hunger foul, and hunger deep,
They rise from dirt where secrets sleep.
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Their skin is rotting, black and slick,
Their eyes—two pits that burn and flick.
The smell of death, the taste of fear,
When they draw near, no soul is clear.
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They crawl from cracks, they crawl from stone,
Beneath the earth, their hearts have grown.
And when the moon, so pale and thin,
Casts light, it lets the evil in.
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The town is still, its silence sweet,
A lull before the death they meet.
Then comes the sound—a creaking door,
The trolls are here, and hell’s in store.
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The children’s cries, a twisted song,
Echo as the night grows long.
No walls too high, no door too strong,
They tear through steel as if it’s wrong.
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Their claws are knives, their teeth are hooks,
They rip through flesh like ripped-up books.
Each scream they hear, each soul they break,
Is food for them, their thirst to slake.
-
The air grows thick with blood and ash,
The ground shakes with each savage crash.
Their breath, a stench of rotting meat,
Their footsteps like the pounding beat
Of drums in hell, a rhythmic sound,
That shakes the heart and cracks the ground.
-
The parents run, but they are slow,
The trolls are fast, the shadows grow.
With jagged teeth, they tear and rend,
Their twisted mouths will never end.
-
They drag their victims, pale and torn,
Into the woods where night is born.
The darkness whispers, hungry, deep,
As it devours those who sleep.
-
The moon itself begins to bleed,
A crimson glow that feeds the need.
The trolls, they laugh with twisted glee,
Their hunger’s all that they will be.
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There’s no escape, no place to hide,
The monsters walk with death as guide.
They find the weak, the lost, the young,
And twist their bodies, pull their lungs.
-
In the woods, where the trees bend low,
There’s something worse, something below.
For the trolls are not the only thing,
There are darker things that live and sting.
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Each body left is never still,
The shadows come to claim their fill.
A thousand voices, whispers thick,
The trolls’ victims rise, the darkness sticks.
-
They become the trolls—they feast, they feed,
They’re twisted now, they’ve lost their need.
And once they’ve tasted, once they’ve learned,
The fires of hell are where they burn.
-
No one survives; no one has escaped.
The town is gone, the town is raped.
The earth is thick with blood and screams,
The trolls still hunger—hear their dreams.
-
So, if you wander near the woods,
Beware the trees that watch your moods.
For in the dark, the trolls still wait,
And once they find you—it’s too late.
Meet the Author
WINFRED KWAO
Blogger And Article writer
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