Once upon a time there was a blissful and happy village, where blue bells and tulips grew in the lushes green fields and the people that lived there grew together as a community, just like the flowers that lay peacefully in the fields. The name of this town was Curse, and for a town named curse it was a very pleasant town; for there the people of the town where extremely happy, leading their honest and simple lives in order to earn their honest livings.
(What a lovely story that would be, where everyone got there happy endings. But alas, this is not an altogether pleasant story for you will find that very rarely in life; such a peaceful world exists...)
Yet one mid winters eve, (because that's a particularly creepy time of year and an even creeper time of day) a mighty troll came to the village. His feet were hairy, with the strong odour of rotting meat, hanging in the misty air as he trudged his way down the road, and his green scaly skin was coated in grease, yet each and every scale was sharped to a point, meaning that his body was coated in over a thousand tiny daggers. And as he approached the market square, he stopped and watched the petrified villagers drawing their curtains, bolting their doors. He drew a gasp of the evening air so he could just sense the warmth of the villager's blood and he could bare the temptation no longer. He ate the villagers in the streets in which they ran and set their houses alight, so that the village of curse was nothing but an ominous red glow on the distant horizon. So now the village suffers the wrath of the curse of the troll.
But people may get hurt, so people get angry and people crawl in the dirt. They cause each other pain, tell each other lies and sink so low into the ground that there's nowhere left to fall but these people would not stand for this trolls endless rage of destruction. So the people cried out
'STOP! We do not want your destruction, we want peace!' And the troll stopped, ran his long purple tongue along his rotting, blood stained teeth and said
'Ok, then, let us strike a deal.' He paused in contemplation and then continued. 'If you were to give me one child per week, then I will leave your village, spare its destruction and go to dwell under the bridge on the causeway between here and the mainland.' The villagers shouted out in uproar, how could they give away their children? And furthermore, they would have to sacrifice the only way in or out of the village. But people will be people, and they agreed.
Yet despite their heartless decision, they wanted to spare the children's feelings for they could not just tell their beloved children to their deaths! So they devised a plan, each week a child who was 5 years of age or above would be randomly selected from a basket of names. And this child would be told to walk through the field, past the guard that blocked the path and towards the horizon where they would find a paradise. A paradise where there would be sweets, money, toys and other children to play with where they could live happily ever after. But this guard would only let one child past a week for he had lost his wife and child many years ago.
So this was the fable that they told the children and a morsel of it was true. They would enter a paradise of sorts... heaven.
For in actual fact; each week the troll would wait under the rickety wooden bridge the linked the island to the main land. Waiting... waiting until the trip, trap, trip, trap of a poor villagers child crossing the bridge. The troll would then silently run over the top of the ridge that raised high up the side of the causeway as he en-hailed the scent of blood once more. He would then lie in wait over a tunnel by which time the child would have walked across the causeway towards the tunnel, terrified by the rustle which lay in the dense undergrowth above. And to add to their nerves, this bridge was made of stone and mortar which crumbled as the dark dampness set in with the drip, drop of the water seeping through from above. The troll would edge over the tunnel as step by step, his unfortunate victim would edge closer and closer to their end, their unpreventable death.
Until, SLAM! The troll would pounce upon his victim as it would squeal and squirm in a feeble attempt to save its ever shortening life, but the troll liked this, he loved the taste of adrenalin pumping through the fresh blood. Sinking his sharp, pointy teeth into the child's arm, he would suck the blood out of the child, draining his or hers living life force straight from their body till eventually, there would be nothing left but a skeleton. And even then the troll was not finished, oh no, he would spend the week gnawing on the marrow from the bones so that not a scrap was left.
So the villagers lived in fear of the troll for generations and generations. Until one day, three travellers appeared in the village that went by the name of the three billy goats gruff.
You see, the three billy goats gruff where in fact three brothers who had come from the main land. They had come from a goat farm in the south and their father had been named billy hence they had been nicked name, the three billy goats gruff. However, their father had died months before without leaving a will to any of his property or belongings so the brothers had fallen into a feud. The feud itself had become so great that they had been brought before the king of their land. Seeing that the brothers must be punished for the pain and damage that they had caused each other and other citizens he led them towards a mirror.
Yet, this was no ordinary mirror for this mirror was laced with magic and acted as a gate way to other places so that the king could travel where he wished quickly and without being seen. But he did not tell the brothers this, oh no, he said that it was the mirror of truth that would decide who had the right to their fathers belongings. The brothers, being selfish and greedy immediately fell for it and stepped into the mirror as the king had said. And now they became trapped in the village of Curse.
However when the villagers heard this they weren't just surprised, but shocked to find that these brothers were just normal people with no extraordinary powers or abilities! But they did not know the brothers secret for they were all trained in the art of magic and enchantments. The villagers queried how and why they had come to the village but there was no answer only that they would be leaving as soon as possible (for they were desperate to escape.)
"No, no!" they cried "you must not go! For there is... there is." But they could not finish that sentence because there were children in the village square but of course the brothers knew where they were now. The legends said that there was a troll who stopped the villagers from leaving the village and that the troll demanded one child of them every week. But this meant that they were trapped! The billy goats gruff where furious! How could they leave this village without being killed by the troll? How could they pass the guard that sat on the edge of the causeway?