🕯️ Saturday Screams Presents: Troll (1986)

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🎭 Monologue of the Nightly Storyteller

The walls whisper when no one listens. They murmur about change—about things beneath our skin waiting to crawl free. Magic, monsters, curses—they’re never truly gone, just sleeping in the cracks of our world, waiting for a fool to open the wrong door.

I used to think I told these stories. Now, I think they tell me.

Tonight’s tale slithers through an apartment complex where laughter dies in the vents and something ancient is waking…


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🎬 Movie Review: Troll (1986)

Ah, Troll—the 1986 oddball fantasy-horror film that’s equal parts fairy tale and fever dream. Directed by John Carl Buechler, it begins when a family moves into a San Francisco apartment building, only to discover that their daughter Wendy has been possessed by a mischievous troll named Torok.

From there, it’s a surreal descent into a world where reality and folklore collide. Each neighbor transforms—literally—into a twisted creature, and the building itself becomes a bizarre gateway to a fantasy realm hidden within our own.

What makes Troll special isn’t its scares—it’s its weird confidence. It walks that thin line between whimsical and disturbing. The puppetry and practical effects ooze ‘80s charm, and the score by Richard Band gives it that eerie bedtime-story edge. And yes, this is the movie where Harry Potter Jr. existed long before Hogwarts was ever dreamed up.

It’s not terrifying—it’s enchantingly strange. A bizarre time capsule where fairy magic meets low-budget horror, and the result is something that’s more dream than nightmare.


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💀 Did You Know?

The main character’s name, Harry Potter Jr., came out 11 years before J.K. Rowling’s novels.

Almost the entire movie was shot on one soundstage, which gave the film its suffocating, surreal tone.

Director John Carl Buechler—who also handled the creature effects—went on to direct Friday the 13th Part VII: The New Blood.



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🕯️ Tidbits from the Shadows

Troll 2 has no connection to this movie and features no trolls—but it became one of the most infamous cult “bad movies” ever made.

Early drafts gave Torok a tragic backstory—banished for falling in love with a human.

The vines that overtake the apartments were hand-painted and adjusted frame-by-frame to appear alive.



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📖 The Storyteller Chronicles: The File of Shadows

The air reeked of ozone and burnt wood. The creature’s scream still echoed through the cracked walls, a guttural roar that rattled every nerve.

Val stumbled backward, her breath shaky. Nyra’s ring flickered with pale light. Silas didn’t move—his expression was pure fascination.

The creature turned toward them. Its eyes—hundreds of them—blinked in uneven rhythm before the monstrous form began to collapse. Scales cracked like dry bark. A hiss filled the room as the shape convulsed, shedding its skin in clouds of ash and steam.

When it was over, the Nightly Storyteller stood trembling in its place—eyes wild, shirt torn, breathing ragged.

> “It’s me,” he rasped. “It’s still me.”



Silas’s lips parted in a delighted whisper.

> “Magnificent… absolutely magnificent.”



He stepped closer, eyes darting like a scientist studying a miracle.

> “You’ve seen Elyndor, haven’t you?” he asked. “Don’t lie. I know it’s real. I know because of you three.”



He began pacing, his words sharp and eager.

> “Ever since monsters began overrunning Hollow Creek, I sent people to investigate. And they found… proof.”



He motioned to the side. Mr. Harris—stoic, silent—approached with a worn leather folder. He handed it to Silas, who tossed it onto the table.

The file slid open. Black-and-white photos scattered across the surface—Val, Nyra, and the Storyteller caught mid-battle. One image showed the scientist’s lab. Another, the fight with the ringworm-like creature.

> “You three have done extraordinary things,” Silas said. “And you keep pretending not to understand what you are.”



He paused. His tone darkened.

> “I want Elyndor. Its power. Its resources. I could build something unstoppable.”



“No,” Val said flatly.

Nyra’s voice trembled with anger. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

The Storyteller shook his head. “You’ll destroy everything if you go there.”

Silas smiled thinly. “Are you sure?”

All three nodded.

He sighed. “That’s unfortunate.”

Then, with a wave of his hand, Mr. Harris placed a tablet on the table. Silas tapped the screen, the glow reflecting off his sharp grin.

> “Let me show you something.”



A video flickered to life. Grainy. Dim. A child’s cry pierced the silence.

> “Mommy! Help!”



Val froze. Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened in horror as the tablet’s light pulsed across her face.

The screen froze on the image of a terrified girl—eyes wide, mouth open mid-scream.

The faint buzz of fluorescent lights hummed above them like a heartbeat.

Nobody spoke.

Only the crackle of static and the cold, metallic scent of ozone filled the room.


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And if you dare… drop a comment and tell me your favorite scary movie, urban legend, or horror memory.
We’re just getting started—and things are about to get dark.

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