Seven little men whistled while they crossed the bridge to the wood. It was rumored that a troll lived under that bridge, once upon a time. The hooves from the Three Billy Goats Gruff long since washed away. Lying along a road less traveled through the woods to grandmother’s house, Jack Frost leaves not a trail of crumbs. Its a bridge to an enchanted forest, lost of its magic simply because no believed. Patiently waiting with the giving tree who gave too much for the right someone to come along to unlock it’s powers.
This is a story in 100 words or fewer for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo above. Click the blue frog to read more stories inspired by this photo!