'Sunflowers in Nordland' by Birgit K. Gaiser

Velika Ilieva went to the bridge, holding a sunflower. She had been bringing those ever since she was a child, ever since her parents, Zitko and Ivelina, had died.

They had been commemorated, together with all the others, on the bridge, the place where it happened. Nobody had seen the troll after the killing spree, it seemed to have simply walked off.

Velika didn’t fear for her life. Not back then, at the memorial ceremony, and not today. She placed the sunflower on the ground and knelt, using a cheap toothbrush and bottled water to clean the stones her parents’ names were carved into.

“I’m sorry I’ve not been visiting much lately,” she whispered. “I finished my degree. I’m a doctor. Like I said I would be.”

Her parents had laughed at her as she held up a teddy bear covered in plasters. Removing them had cost the poor toy a few patches of fur. She’d switched to using tissues as make-believe bandages after.

She swallowed, then said: “I’m moving away. I got a job. In a big research clinic, in Nordland. I know it’s what you’d want for me. No, that’s a lie. I think it’s what you’d want for me. But I want it.”

Velika got up, wondering when she’d return here. If she’d return. They had sunflowers in Nordland, after all. She could remember her parents there, too.