Prologue

The Town was a simple little place. It had a long, winding path going through the main square, which displayed the general store, post office, bank, and saloon. The path also wound its way through several fields, and simple homes could be found alongside of it.

However, at the end of this path lay the large, rusty gate to the Outside. None of the Townsfolk dared go through the gate, and no travelers had ever come in from Outside.

Ah, the Townsfolk. These were a simple folk, which was a perfect fit for their simple town. Almost everything that you could find in this town could be classified as simple. That is, apart from the Trogs. But I won't go into them right now. Instead, let me introduce you to the one Townsperson who could not be categorized as simple, or at least the only one in his opinion.

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Neil closed the book and slapped it down on the table. “Mom! That's forty-seven!” he called. His mother entered the room with a concerned expression on her face.

“Neil, just because you've read however many-”

“Forty-seven, Mom,” Neil interrupted.

“-Alright, just because you've read forty-seven books without Trogs doesn't mean there's something wrong with them.”

“Mom. How can there be nothing wrong with them if there is not a single book in the entire library about them?”

An annoyed expression played on his mother's face. “Dear, look outside,” she said, pointing out the window.

A Trog was lazily walking through the field, cutting the grass with its razor-sharp teeth as it went. It suddenly fell over, then clumsily got back up, chuckling in the usual Trog way. The clownish antics that accompanied the Trogs' every movement made any other villager smile, but sent shivers down Neil's spine.

“What's your point?” asked Neil, although he already knew what his mother was going to say, having heard this speech hundreds of times.

“Neil, there is nothing to fear from the Trogs. They're totally harmless. Besides, why should we be afraid of the same creature that does all of our farm work for us?”

“Because, Mom, they're not normal,” Neil replied.

“Of course they're normal. They're all over Town. You can hardly go anywhere without running into one.”

“I don't mean in Town, Mom,” Neil said. “I'm talking about Outside.”

A pang of fear suddenly surged through his mother. “How do you know what's Outside?” she whispered, saying the word as if it were a curse; if anyone should hear it, trouble would result.

“Where do you think all the books in the library are from?” Neil asked in reply. This appeared to make his mother very agitated.

“Oh, I knew I shouldn't have let you go into that library. I knew it would be for the worse, but you insisted on having 'knowledge'. No one ever goes in there. Not even the Trogs will go in there.”

“That's why I spend so much time there.”

“Oh, get out, get out,” his mother said, obviously frustrated as she pushed him out of the door. “And don't go in the library!”

Neil ran outside, deliberately going the opposite direction from the Trog that was in the field. His mother watched him go from the window. After a moment, her frustration vanished and gave way to her usual content demeanor, the attitude most common in the Townsfolk.