It was a crude approximation of a sculpture, but that added to its charm. An uneven tree stump chopped and chain sawed into a shape Melanie could only describe as a rough but sweet tree troll.
Did they even have trolls in Australia? They certainly had all manner of amazing creatures, invisible to most. It seemed whoever had created this carving had seen at least a few of them. There was a truth in the twinkle of the near-hidden eyes and shy but shrewd tilt of its oddly flattened head.
Melanie beckoned to the gallery attendant. “Could you tell me a little more about that one?”
The attendant looked, then sighed. “I’m afraid that’s not for sale. It’s, um, something of a gallery mascot.”
Interesting…
She let herself be apparently distracted by another piece, while watching the attendant grimace at the block of bark and wood. His hissed whisper floated just far enough for her to hear. “You know you shouldn’t come in here when there are strangers. That fancy-sounding lady just wanted to buy you.”
The troll replied, it’s voice a scratch of branches rubbing together, too quiet for her to catch.
So it was real, and clearly comfortable with humans if it had no qualms about wandering into a high-end city art gallery on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. Would they be open to tea and conversation? It had been far too long since she’d had a decent chat with a fellow nature spirit, and never one from such an ancient and unusual land.
The DNA of Stories 