This is part one of a set of posts in response to Pilf's exceptional "Pure Shores" series. Think of it as a reflection of what she wrote, but in a distorted mirror.
Since I can't match her rate of production, I'll split the posts over a few days.
Troll ain’ made fa city. We got jungle in us ‘eart’, raptah in us eye an’ drum-beat’ in us ear. Sure, we built 'em. Great one’ dat take an hour ta ride across. City a 'undred time biggah dan dem tiny place dey young one build. Fah a t’ousan’ generation we done da same ting. Troll build city ta escape da jungle, but den we bring it inside da wall.
Ya evah seen a tiger in a cage? ‘alf broken, but ‘alf savage. Dat be a troll in a city. Darkness always overtake us in da en’. We go crazy. We kill us own god.
So when I go ta city, I keeps it short. I don’ stop ta look roun’. I use ma magic ta fin’ what I wan’, den I ‘ead out, ‘fore dat cage door close. Silvahmoon may be a gilded cage, made pretty wid gold an’ magic, but it still be a cage. So today I drif’ away intah ma farsight an’ fin’ da fellah I wants. Get a few ting an’ get back ta da beach.
Der ‘e be, all fancy ‘air an’ snot. Dem elfies don’ like troll ‘ere, but dey ‘orde now, so ‘im got serve me. ‘im won’ like it, though. Nex’ ta ‘im be what ya see all da time in’dis place. Dem dancin’ girl ya see on dey mailbox, ‘opin’ ta charge fa what’s free. Troll ain’ da only fella dat go crazy in city.
Dis one be differen’, tho. She ain’ dancin’. Jus’ collapse on da box next ta ‘im. A broken voodoo doll, t’rown away aftah da magic be spent. Wooden, wid limb arrange wrong, like she been drop der, pierced t’rough wid invisible pin. ‘er face ‘idden behin’ pale powdah, more dead dan livin’. Oo call dis spirit up, I wondah.
“ ‘ey der elfie”.