Oyebode Ayoola

In the northern village of Svartvik, where pine trees hissed like whispering ghosts and frost kissed every doorstep, the children spoke in hushed tones of The Troll Beneath the Stone Bridge. For centuries, the moss-draped crossing had arched over a narrow ravine that the villagers dared not pass by moonlight. They said a troll, ancient, warty, and wise in riddles,