THE FRONT PORCH
By
Scott Allen Emerson

Kevin just _knew_ there was a monster underneath the bridge. He stood where the dirt road ended, wondering what might be under there. Some kind of monster, he was sure. He could hear it breathing in the darkness down below.

What kind of monster lives under an old wooden bridge?

A troll? Kevin could easily imagine one crouched beneath the bridge: a squat, ugly creature with shaggy black hair and a mouth full of teeth. Probably had a wart on its nose, too.

After considering all the other monsters he could think of—vampires, werewolves, mummies, zombies, ghouls—Kevin figured, yeah, it was a troll underneath the bridge.

The bridge he had to cross to get home.

He told himself he was stupid, that he should’ve gone home long before it got dark. But his baseball team had been winning, and he was having fun with his friends.

Besides, he didn’t want them to think he was a wuss. Only wusses went home before the sun went down.

So here he was, paying the price for his bravery. But what was worse, his friends calling him a wuss, or crossing a bridge over a hungry troll?

It didn’t matter now. It was after dark, and the longer he waited, the later it got. And that meant big trouble when he got home.

“Maybe it’s just my imagination,” Kevin said aloud—but quietly. Didn’t want to wake up the troll, just in case. He crouched close to the ground, listening hard for any sounds below the bridge.

He heard the trickling of the stream that flowed beneath it. He also heard a thin, high-pitched whistling.

It might’ve been the wind.

It might also be the ragged breath of a troll.

Kevin had to get home, and he had to cross the bridge to do it. But before he did anything, he needed a picture in his mind, a picture of something safe. He would think of the picture and it would calm him, help keep away the willies as he crossed the bridge and hurried home.

What would he think of? His first thought was of his Mom, but that didn’t work. He kept imagining her being angry, punishing him for coming home late. The same went for his Dad.

So, what was it going to be?

The answer suddenly popped into his brain. He’d think of the front porch of his house. Kevin knew that when he got there he’d be safe. No troll could get him, even if it chased him all the way home.

That’s it. That’s what I’ll do.

The trick was to cross the bridge slowly without making any noise. Kevin imagined the front porch with its soothing white light to steady his nerves.

He took a careful step onto the bridge. It made no sound that he could hear, but just how sensitive were a troll’s ears? Kevin took another step, then another, moving as quietly as possible. He checked each board to make sure
it wasn’t loose before walking on it.

Meanwhile he listened, still hearing the troll’s breath. He told himself not to be careless.

Kevin wondered what a troll would do with him. It was eat him, probably, but how? Would it just grab him and start taking bites, eating him alive? Or would it chop him into little pieces and cook him over a fire? Kevin imagined the troll hunched underneath the bridge, drooling with hunger,
roasting Kevin’s head on a stick like a marshmallow.

That thought got Kevin walking faster.

“The front porch,” he whispered under his breath. “Think about the front porch, or you’re going to make too much noise and—“CRACK!”

Kevin’s foot plunged through a weak board. He kept his footing, but his plan to be silent had been ruined. The noise echoed into the dark as loud as thunder.

He stopped to listen. He could no longer hear the breathing. Did that mean the troll was waiting for the perfect time to pounce?

Beneath the bridge came the sharp snapping of a twig.

The troll! It was attacking!

”Run!” screamed Kevin’s brain.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He ran faster than he ever had in his life, no longer caring that his footsteps clattered along the bridge. He troll had heard him, had emerged from its hiding place to eat him.

Kevin thought about its jagged teeth and ran harder.

”The front porch, you’re almost there,” he thought as he fled. It didn’t help. What good would the front porch be if he was a troll’s dinner before he got there?

Kevin cleared the bridge, leaving it behind in a spray of dust. He pushed himself further, telling himself he was almost home. If he could just go faster!

He thought he could hear the troll behind him, panting as it tried to catch him.

Faster! Go faster!

Finally, after running for what seemed like forever, Kevin found himself in his front yard. His house had never appeared so warm and inviting, the front porch looking just as safe as he’d pictured it.

Kevin wanted to go charging right into the house, but his adrenaline had burned itself out and a shooting pain pierced his side. He stopped in front of the porch to catch his breath.

Once he’d calmed down, Kevin chanced a look behind him. He didn’t see any troll, didn’t see anything but an empty yard. Maybe there had never even been one.

Relief flooded through him. He was even more relieved that his friends hadn’t seen how scared he was. They’d have called him King Wussy for sure.

What did he care? He was home and he was safe. Mom and Dad were inside, and even if they were angry at him, it was all right. Everything was fine now. Kevin started for the front door.

He’d barely taken a step before the hand shot out from under the porch, grabbing his ankle with frightening strength.

The hand was green and scaly like a reptile’s, with a pointed claw and the end of each finger. Before Kevin could react, it pulled him to the ground, driving the air from his lungs.

A hiss came from the darkness beneath the porch.

“No!” Kevin gasped. “You’re supposed to live under the bridge!”

The face of the thing clutching his ankle leaned into the light.

It wasn’t a troll.

It was worse.

It looked like some merging of human and snake, with shimmering yellow eyes and two slits where its nose should be. It opened its mouth to hiss again, revealing fangs as large as hypodermic needles.

Then it pulled Kevin below the front porch.

The End