Troll Under Bridge Novels & Stories

Shaking his head, the father turned back to look at the bridge which had started to give away in the middle. On the bridge of death, the two speedsters, Carol and Damon, were bolting through the congestion of gridlocked vehicles when they were hit by the shockwave, sweeping them off their feet. They were thrown back as each of them crashed into cars. The shockwave had then cleared when the ground below them began to move. They were getting back on their feet to see the lightning pillar cut the bridge in half and both ends were then tipping downwards, Titanic style before plunging three hundred and seventy-seven feet into the waters of the Pacific below.

For these humanlike troll maidens are drawn to bridges and used to spend much of their time sitting or standing on a bridge if there is one close to where they dwell. Bridges are places of transition. They do not just span a stream or a river but also the air itself. When a troll maiden sits on a bridge, she is in a place particularly suited to her own state of being -- a link between two worlds apart. Whenever they guard a bridge, these troll maidens can't help but relate themselves to the bridge that they were guarding. Water rushes under a bridge, flowing away to unknown places, speeding by even faster than a troll maiden's time in the world.

“Near the bridges. There’s a whole convoy of fricken’ werewolves from Trayrock wanting to come over the train bridge.” “A convoy from Trayrock?” Sigrid frowned. “Yep. They’re calling themselves refugees.”

He sent out a quick flow of vines to keep the hole from opening up beneath the tom. "I don't think we can trust any part of the bridge. And we aren't going be able to repair it, I'm afraid." The no-fur watched his vines disappear seconds after Hades moved to a safer spot. "Not unless one of us is rocking the King of the Underworld aura. We really need to MOVE!" Spitfire called out, pulling Guru away from another hole opening under them. "I am not falling into the void for a second time today." "Fuck, looks like the void is coming for us." Guru batted away a sticky black tentacle-like thing coming from the side of the bridge. The first of many.

“That’s our exit?” Oliver nodded once. “If the valve opens fully, the drainage tunnel floods outward.” Another pause. “The current carries us beyond the collapse zone.” Daniel blinked rapidly. “You’re saying we intentionally jump into underground flood currents.” “Yes.” “That is the worst sentence I’ve heard tonight.” Elias moved toward the unstable bridge immediately. “I’ll open the valve.” Oliver grabbed his arm instantly. “No.” Elias looked toward him sharply. “The bridge won’t hold multiple people.” “Exactly.” Silence.

The forest fell behind us, and we followed the path to the bridge and mill, and Isyl threw a carrot to the troll that dwelt beneath. “An actual troll,” Rivyn murmured. “That would explain your assumption that every bridge would house one.” “I know that not every bridge has a troll, but it is always better to assume there is one, than to risk insulting one,” I pointed out. “Not an issue Rivyn would have encountered,” Isyl replied. “He is more accustomed to receiving tribute, than to giving it.” “True,” Rivyn agreed.

I didn’t think he was going to let us cross willingly. “Who is it that wants to cross my bridge?” The troll said from underneath. “I will not allow it, find another way.” The troll huffed. “Ben, could you come from underneath your bridge? I have a favor to ask of you.” Brax looked over at me with a warm smile. The troll coughed and scrambled up the bank side to meet us. He was short with long ears. He is a hefty, little guy with a big nose and green leathery skin. His clothes were dirty and worn. I couldn’t tell if it was his teeth or tusks that curved up from his mouth.

Not because it trusted him. But because nothing out here was meant to matter. A bridge came into view—stone arches slick with moss, its railings cracked. Beneath it, the river whispered against black rocks, too shallow to drown in, but deep enough to forget. On the other side: a milestone snapped in two. One half gone. The other sunken in the mud, covered in tally marks. Thirty-seven. He didn’t count the others. A shadow passed overhead—wide wings, silent. Not a bird.

The Bridge of Understanding became a safe space for conversations that challenged assumptions, broke down stereotypes, and paved the way for genuine understanding. Through the bridge, Aric and Kaida encouraged collaboration between local businesses, artists, and community organizations. They organized cultural showcases, where artists from diverse backgrounds could share their talents and traditions. The bridge became a vibrant hub of artistic expression, bridging gaps between different cultures and promoting intercultural appreciation.

"it's the religious meusum in gooplingtom. a natural history meusum too if you asked some people." Adulf did not know much about that, the only interest was that the London bridge was mentioned, and there was the fact that they sent him a letter too. would he have to go? that was the question on his mind ,but he would first have to speak with Mr Bucharest. however there was always a one or two interviewer talking it about how good the London bridge community had been always good to the society ever since the first suicide attempt of lela Lancaster of her confession that she had actually wanted to kill her self because some group of men promised to murder her (an event that took place in her