The Secret Life of Adrian Troll.

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The Secret Life of Adrian Troll

"Morning Terry," said Adrian, picking himself off the ground and jumping on Terence. "Wake up!"

Adrian was a small being; perhaps he might be likened to a leprechaun, except he definitely was not. A troll was a more likely description, yet it couldn't really be confirmed. He had no hair, but a few grey patches on his forehead. A greeny haze glowed over his skin, like a foul odour creeping from well-worn shows. He had small beady eyes, which held inside many emotions and memories, a twinkle that was caught when the light hit them, almost longing for a dream far out of reach. A long nose caught every smell and ended slightly upturned, creating a rather puzzled expression on his tiny, pointed face. His mouth was small and mainly hidden by the shadow of his nose. He spoke good English, but with a strong Irish accent.

He seemed a lively character, bursting with endless amounts of energy, the complete contrast of his companion. Terry was a man of no fixed abode. It is not politically correct to call him a tramp, but in this case it was an