(Its a short story called the, "Riddle troll")
“Are you sure you’ll be okay, staying here alone?” Grandmother Vanessa asked me, worry written all over her face as she stopped at the front door. “I’ll be fine, grandma,” I reassured her. “Of ‘course he will!” Grandfather Albert boomed from behind me, clapping me so hard that I nearly stumbled from my perch on the steps as he strode to the front door. “Well, okay…,” Grandmother Vanessa said uncertainly. “But remember, if you get hungry there’s left-overs in the fridge. We’ll be back later on tonight so don’t stay up late watching cartoons!” Grandmother Vanessa gave me a quick, tight hug while Grandfather Albert ruffled my hair roughly. Then, their good-byes said, they departed out into the night. Hearing the door shut, I dashed down the stairs, peering out the living room window as the old Volkswagen rumbled down the gravel road that leading out of the farm and disappearing into the night. Once it was gone, I sat down on the over-stuffed couch in the living room, staring silently at the empty room. Grandma and grandpa had said that they were going to some sort of “party” for old people. At first, I had died-out laughing, thinking of a bunch of old people square dancing to some cheesy country music. I thought it would be cool to have the whole house to myself. But, sitting there all alone with only the silence for company, I suddenly wished Grandpa and Grandma were here instead of some party. After a bit of personal “to-do” thinking, I decided to grab some left-overs and watch some TV to pass the time. I ate my mashed potatoes and chicken in front of the television and watched cartoons until I was too sleepy to keep my eyes open. But, as I dragged myself into the guest room and onto my bed, I got kind of freaked out when the realization dawned on me. I was in my grand parent’s old farm house with tons of miles between me and civilization. I was all alone. Suddenly, as I sat staring at the ceiling, a gray paw shot up right next to my face. I let out a yelp, almost rolling off the bed. I let out a shaky sigh of relief when our old, grey tom cat, Merlin, peeked his face above the folds of the covers. His intelligent yellow eyes looked my face up and down the hopped onto the bed right next to me, rubbing his soft body against me and purring loudly. Sometimes I thought there was more to this old tom cat. Something about his eye told me so. I know this sounds funny, but sometimes when he meows, I think he’s literally talking. I don’t know if it was the soft purring of Merlin’s voice in my ear or the soft pat, pat of the sudden rain, but soon enough, I had drifted into a dreamless sleep. At first when I had woken up I didn’t know why I had woken up. Merlin was looking around the room, his ears perked up in a silent look of caution. The room seemed surprisingly cold, despite that it was in June. “What’s wrong, merl?” I asked, picking him up. But Merlin, with a small growl, pulled away irritably, his ears pinned down. Rain was still pouring outside, splattering against the window in bursts. But there was another noise; the sound of something sharp scraping down a window. I leaped off my bed-almost falling on the floor- then listened, straining my ears to catch the noise. It came again, sounding from my grandparent’s room across the hallway. My heart was racing impossibly fast as I slowly stalked across the hall, followed by a cautious Merlin. I opened the door, and then screamed. Or, that was what I was intending to do. My throat seemed to constrict in fear, stopping my scream short. A monster glared through the slits of the shades on the window, it’s yellow, beady eyes glowing sinisterly. It had a long, pointed nose, almost as distorted as its gnarled fingers that pried and pulled at the lock on the window. Bushy, black eyebrows hung over its evil eyes, and it’s tangled, thin strands of hair hung limply around its grotesque face. Then, with a screech of glass-against-metal, the window rolled up, letting in a volley of rain that pelted me and Merlin. Merlin let out a hiss and took off out the door, leaving me with the hulking monster. I flicked on the lights. The monster shuffled away from the window, but it could still be seen, standing in a puddle of muck. “What are you?” I yelled over the scream of the wind, but to my annoyance, my voice quavered. “Troll,” was its hissing reply.
I had no idea what a troll was. No clue at all. “The lights will burn out,” the troll said with a voice full of whispers. “And then I will come in.” “I’ll turn on another light,” I said, just as a line of lighting boomed in the distance, the light glowing off from the silhouette of the troll. “In a storm like this, your light could die. Anything could happen.” That soft, persuasive voice made me shudder. It was true. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t do anything. “Let’s play a game while we wait,” the troll said. “I’ll tell you a riddle, and then you tell me one.” “What happens if I
Its a little "lengthy", but I really hope someone reads it through. 
It didn’t fit it all in, but just tell me what you think about some of it.
Technorati Tags: couch, country music, fridge, good byes, google, grandma and grandpa, grandmother, grandpa and grandma, gravel road, living room, potatoes, riddle, script type, short story, silence, stairs, television, text javascript, tight hug, volkswagen
