Wolves, Trolls

I have left the home of my high school media teacher with a stern warning to beware the ghost wolf. I came to his house, hidden in enchanted forest, to play poker. It is late; I did not bring a flashlight.

The wolf is luminous. It approaches me on the path, aglow. Then I wake up.

I am reading a book titled "In the Valley of the Trolls." It is beautiful and I make a note to myself to write down the very clever first line upon awaking. Illustrations of trolls, heavy brown ink on parchment, move on the page. I touch a world of mystery. I do not remember the line.