The Troll and the Man

I look around. It is dark and shadowy. I hear dripping water and feel the uncomfortable humidity. It smells stale. No air is circulating. It is a closed-in place. There must be a lot of microscopic life-forms that need no sunlight although the place seems lifeless. I realize that I am in a cave.

I see a quick movement at the right side of my field of vision. I watch. I wait. There it is once again, lightening fast. I question its reality but it’s not my imagination. Something the size of an adult man is here in this cave. I wait and watch. There it is again. He’s difficult to distinguish from the cave walls, rocks, and shadows. I study where he was only minutes before. His movements seem arbitrary but are a burst of energy-filled stealth. Becoming motionless, he blends in with the cave’s lifeless characteristics.

Me: “Oh!” I gasp. “That’s not part of the cave. That’s him!” I think. “His shape fits well with the stalagmites and stalactites. Does he have a deformed back?” I question myself. “He’s the color of this place: drab browns and grays with streaks of white.” I see a light in the corner of my eye. A flashlight. A man has a flashlight. The light reflects off an opposite wall. It’s blindingly bright in contrast to the cave’s gloom and darkness.

The Man: “I know that you’re in here. I know this cave thoroughly. I have followed you around in here for a quite some time. I saw you come in here.” There is a long silence. I am completely still and barely breathe. “I know that you are in here,” he repeats in order to believe it’s true, it seems. “There’s no way out except through the exit behind me and this flashlight.” More silence. “How come you don’t respond? How come you stay hidden when I am aware of your presence here?” Nothing. Then I hear a quiet stirring. I detect a brushing and small spilling of rocks.

The Troll: “Why are you down here? Why do you insist upon following me around here in this darkness?” The flashlight bounces around the walls. The man tries to set his light upon the voice, to find The Troll.

The Man: “How come you are determined to live in this cave? There’s no life down here. There’s nothing but mineral-rocks, high humidity, stale air, pallid water, and microscopic organisms. You enjoy this life down in here?” The man’s questions fall into the dark silence.

I distinctly hear a throat clearing. It echoes roughly around the cave walls.

The Troll: “I can’t live on the surface for long. It’s too scary up there. And I’m too ugly. But you’ve not answered my question: What could possibly be the reason that you look for me? Want me? Seek me out when I wish to remain hidden? Undetected? Why do you bother me?”

(I muse, “You think it’s scary on the surface, Troll? This is the scary place!”)

Again, there’s silence. Communication between The Man and The Troll comes in rapid fire and then interludes of anguished quiet. The two must be thinking, considering the other’s words carefully before giving a response. There is a delicate, deliberate, purposeful consideration of the other.

The Troll: “I’ve asked you why you follow me.” The Troll moves out of the stalactites and stalagmites but only slightly. The light has found him. It follows. I see a knotted, warted hand and forearm. The hand reaches for and then grasps a stalagmite. The Troll moves farther out into the light. I see a brownish-gray foot and leg step out of the shadows. More warts.

The Troll: “See, Man? Isn’t this ugly?”

I think, “I’d heard of trolls and read about them in books. But I’d never seen one before and always thought that trolls were make-believe.”

The Man: “Why are you down here? No one and nothing is so ugly that they always stay below ground.”

The communication has quickened a bit now.

The Troll: “I’m afraid to go up for long periods. It hurts up there so much. There’s so many bad things going on up there. I’m much safer down here. There’s less pain. There’s less confusion. There’s less. . . . Besides, I might hurt others and be the cause of another’s pain and suffering. My ugliness. I can’t risk that. Down here, alone, I hurt no one. I don’t have to trust anyone. I’m more comfortable down here. I’m at home here.”

This Troll wants to talk now that he’s started. He probably hasn’t talked with another life in a very long time.

The Troll: “Enough of my explaining. I’ve asked you at least three times why you follow me. I’ve asked what you want of me. I’ve done nothing to warrant your harassment. I’ve done almost all of the talking and all of the explaining. Now it’s definitely your turn. Why do you persist in pestering me, following me around my cave?”

Silence again follows The Troll’s repeated questioning. In the silence, The Troll steps fully into the light. Oh my God! There he is. He’s a real Troll.

The Man: “The reason that I’ve not answered and why I hesitate now to answer is not to avoid your questions. It’s just that I want you to understand my answer: I love you, son.”

The Troll: “Son? You’ve got to be kidding me. Up until right now I’ve never even thought that I might have had a father. Or a mother, for that matter. I guess I assumed that I somehow came out from these rocks. I guess that I must have come from this old cave.”

There is further silence. Quiet.

Slowly, the house lights of the theatre come up. Whereas I was not able to see The Man who holds the flashlight, now I begin to see him across the cave from The Troll. He and The Troll are forming, taking shape right before my eyes as the house lights continue to brighten. The theatre is fully illuminated now. I gasp! The Man holding the now-dimmed flashlight is A Troll!

I look around at others in theatre seats. They, too, are Trolls.

I look down suddenly at my hands and arms. They are brownish-gray and streaked with white, they are knotted and warted. I gasp again! I use my hands and fingers to feel my face. . . .

Oh my God! I’m a Troll too. We all are.