friday fiction a statue maybe

Alvin the Strongman tapped the statue’s forehead. “Shake a leg, lazybones! It’s past sunset!”

The statue rumbled and grumbled, granite edges smoothing into rough flesh as the last rays of sun faded from the midway. Smeg the Troll yawned and scowled at a grey-white spatter on his crimson paisley coat.

“Can’t you jerks keep me under cover? Look at this! Pigeon crap again!”

“Sorry, guy. We been busy since Young Mr. Magic got the word. Lots to do.” Alvin trudged off toward the big top and Smeg followed. “Word? What word?

“His Grampa’s coming to the show tonight.”

Smeg blinked at the strongman. “No way. Merlin? Merlin hisself??”

The strongman nodded. “And guests. From under the hills.”

Smeg whistled though his fangs. “I’d better change.”


I cheated a bit this week and took an extra 25 words to introduce you to Alvin and Smeg and the place they work. The idea of a circus that hires trolls to work nights — what does Smeg do there with his fancy paisley coat? — is kind of cool to me. And “Young Mr. Magic” is a thoroughly neat name. Reminds me of a man who might own his own department store in England, except it’s a circus instead of a department store.

By the way, I won’t tell anyone if you cheat just a little this first week of 2019 and go a bit over the 100 words set by the challenge. What could I do anyhow? It’s not like I’m Merlin or anything, right?