The Changeling

by Victor LaValle

Apollo lingered. He approached the stones, skirting around until he found the largest one, what had been the troll’s head. He could still make out the soft depression of those great blind eyes. He brushed each one with a finger. He leaned close to the stone and pressed his forehead to it. He felt as if he was finally burying what had been haunting him since he was a child. A funeral not for his father but his fatherlessness. Let that monster rest.

No yellow or even green taxis were out here, and even livery cabs were a rare occurrence. Some would suggest running out into the street to hail a passing car, but such suggestions would never be made by anyone familiar with the drivers in Queens. Imagine slaying trolls and then being killed by a hit-and-run driver.

The Q11 approached, its interior lights blazing. At this hour it was the brightest thing in the world. It might as well be a chariot pulling the sun across the sky. Nothing less would do for Emma, Brian, and Apollo. They stood as it slowed. “And they lived happily ever after,” Apollo whispered. Emma leaned into him. “Today,” she said. “And they lived happily today.” “Is that enough?” he asked, looking at Brian, looking at her. “That’s everything, my love.”