Ficlets

The Mountain Prince.

For a toddler, the prince was a fighter. The three-year-old bit and scratched at his captors, but, unfortunately, troll skin is impossibly thick.
“Hand me the vial!” Said one, the brains of the outfit.
“Uh..sir? Which one?”
“Oh, you twit! Give me that!” He grumbled angrily as he snatched the blood-red potion from the bag at his friend’s side. He ham-handedly forced it down the resisting child’s throat. Having swallowed enough of the drug, he gave up resistance.
Smiling maniacally, the trolls tossed the prince out of the forest, and in doing so, into the human realm.

The child, remembering nothing of his past and indifferent to his future, had luck enough to be found and put in foster care. His luck ended there. Renamed Collin, he was passed from family to family, each thinking they could connect to the child, each failing miserably. It would take a special type of person to break the horrible spell on Collin.

He had no clue, but his destiny was creeping up behind him, and doing so fast.

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