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Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published. ‘Eerie Eve’ is drawing to a close. Next up is ‘Enchanter on the Roof.’ Starting soon.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 29
Morris had stood crouched in his tent the whole night, taking slow, cautious movements, stiffening and going still at every sound. Wasn't it me who had pooh-poohed at the idea of trolls, he thought. And now here I am, pooh-poohing in my pants. He sagged against one of the tent's poles and reached out to steady himself; his manhood had taken a serious bashing this night.
As the first golden rays of morning sun touched his tent, Morris dared to draw the canvas aside and peek outside. Time to set off for home, he thought, without the magic toadstools. Poor Sibyl would be disappointed, but under such circumstances she should be glad he was still alive. Gritting his teeth, he sent a probing gaze into the woods; but today there was no sign of a troll. There was no method in the way he took the tent apart. He ran around pulling stakes, dragged the canvas from the poles, and stuffed them in his rucksack. Bits bulged out all over the place, and he could hardly make the buckles reach to snap shut. Fifteen minutes later he set off, and if he hurried and didn't bump into any trolls, he'd be home in time for breakfast. To be continued… 
Image by 【微博/微信】愚木混株 【Instagram】cdd20 from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
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Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 28
Down by the mansion's small lake, Morris hadn't slept a wink in his tent. His rolled-up sleeping bag still lay in a corner, unused, and his neck and back ached so bad that he couldn't stand straight.
Something had scared him while picking toadstools on Trollop Knoll last midnight, and he’d escaped back to his tent—for all the meagre safety it offered. As much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn't contradict the evidence of his own senses: a troll had stalked the night. What could a man do, any man, in the pitch-black of night, with monsters loose, defenceless and weaponless as he was? The troll had followed him back to the tent and thudded and kicked the canvas. The flimsy tent had threatened to collapse at any moment, and all he could do was play dead. He’d turned off the lights, held his breath, knelt on the floor with his head between his knees, and clasped his hands behind his neck. He'd never been in such a crisis in his whole life. God must have heard his prayers though, because he was still alive this morning and nothing other than a miracle had saved him. To be continued… 
Image by James Chan from Pixabay
The real world:
Eeire Eve is drawing to an end. Next up is “Enchanter on the Roof,” where The Stable’s sleepy life is disrupted by a young charlatan, and Bert has the unpleasant task of sorting him out...
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts. Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 27
Skimming over the treetops, Alf flapped his arms and laughed. But then he was falling again and it dawned on him that he ought to do something about arresting his flight.
As he passed the crown of a tall fur tree, he wrapped his arms around the stem and clung on with all his strength. The tree swayed under the weight, then sprung back, trying to throw him off. But Alf held tight, and soon the tree tamed and settled. As it happened, Alf had landed in the same tree where his little robot friend, Crusher, remained tangled in the branches. Alf glanced across to the oak tree, hoping to make eye contact with his new love and wave to her: but she was gone. A search with his third eye, passing through tree and rock, didn't find her either, and his shoulders drooped. "Gawd blimey," mumbled Alf through a huge yawn. He climbed down to Crusher and stretched out in the nest it made. His heart throbbed with delicious passion, but sudden tiredness dwarfed all else. He leaned his head on a branch of soft fur needles, folded his hands across his stomach, looked up into the stars, and let the tree rock him to sleep. Tonight he would dream of his newfound love, and in the morning, ah, in the morning he would find her. To be continued… 
Image by My pictures are CC0. When doing composings: from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 26
The troll yelped, dragged its forearm across its mouth, and spat.
She likes me, thought Alf. Every bristle on his scalp stood to attention, every skin cell tingled, every neuron fired. Quick to respond to the troll's eagerness to mate, Alf sniffed, drew a wad of thick mucus from his throat, and gobbed on the troll's left foot. Seeing how her eyes caressed him, Alf grabbed her hand, brought it to his mouth, and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. A swat sent Alf tumbling onto his back, but encouraged by the troll's show of affection, he bounced up again. Ever the cavalier, he lifted the wicker basket of toadstools and offered them to his newfound love. At the sight of the succulent fungi, the troll squealed with delight, smiled, and snatched them from his hand. Whooping, it skipped a victory lap around the tree trunk. Alf stood with his lips pursed, waiting for his reward. When the troll reached him, it gathered its strength, grabbed his waist, made a noise that sounded like "Yippee," and threw him into the air. As Alf soared through the sky, the absence of stress and tension amazed him. Just a short while ago he had wished for wings, and now here he was, flying in a graceful arc as if shot from a cannon. To be continued… 
Image by 【微博/微信】愚木混株 【Instagram】cdd20 from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 25
With shaking fingers, Alf picked a small toadstool, about the size of a saucer. It was red on top, puke green on its underside, and smelled of decay.
He couldn't help but wonder what it might do to him. Turn him into stone, make him grow huge as Hulk, make him as small as a mouse so he could scuttle away? Or perhaps it would kill him; as far as he'd always believed, toadstools were deadly poisonous. He was dead meat anyway if he didn't try something fast. There were still many hours before daylight when the troll would either turn back to stone or explode. "Down the hatch," he mumbled, and bit into the toadstool. The taste reminded him of sour milk and rotten meat. The texture was all squishy, like maggots and slugs might be. So instead of chewing, he pinched his nose and swallowed it whole. The troll had stopped trying to reach for him and stood with its mouth open, as if just as interested as Alf about the outcome. Alf stared at the troll and rubbed his eyes. He could see now that the troll was not only female but also young and beautiful. In fact, of all the women he'd had affairs with so far, this damsel took the biscuit. Never one to miss an opportunity with romance, Alf pulled her face to his and kissed her smack on her plush lips. To be continued… 
Image by Karine T. Knudsen from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published. Eerie Eve is number 1 in the series.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 24
The troll stretched after Alf with so much determination that the tree groaned. Then the troll clenched the trunk and tried to tear it from the ground. The tree shook. Leaves, twigs and birds' nests rained down, but the ancient oak was too massive and stubborn to yield.
Despite the cold, sweat dripped from Alf's brow. He had his knife with him, but what use was that; the troll’s was bigger. And he didn’t have time to divert his attention to fiddle with his phone to call for help. So he mumbled a few prayers remembered from childhood. What else could he do? The troll wouldn’t give up. But Alf was famous for his 'gumption', and a notion formed in his mind. He still carried the basket of toadstools that the troll was so desperate for. Sibyl, the Cloud Mansion's governess and self-proclaimed witch, had said the toadstools were magic and wanted them for her potions. Right now, Alf wondered what would happen if he ate one. If it poisoned him, so what? He was about to die, anyway! To be continued… 
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 23
Alf, who had acted like a troll and almost frightened the life out of Morris in his tent down by the lake, was now sprinting from a real, live troll. They hurtled around the trunk of a large oak tree and played tag: a game of death in Alf's case.
The troll's stamina seemed endless, and it didn't have the sense to stop and rest. First it rushed one way, then it changed direction and tore the other, and then back again, arms stretched ahead, reaching for Alf. Long legs and supreme fitness were to Alf’s advantage. An important part of his training was to skip and dance, but not for hours on end. His legs were now so tired that he stumbled on tufts of grass and roots, and his lungs were sore from all the panting. He wondered how long he could keep going before he fell, and then he’d have to wrestle with the monster. What a tragic end for such a talented bare-knuckle fighter as me, he thought, but the chance of me winning this tussle is like zero. At last, the troll stopped and glanced around. It bared its teeth and made a sound that Alf guessed was swearing in troll language. Then it stretched its arms around the tree to reach Alf that way. Luckily, the trunk was so thick that the troll's hands couldn't close; and there stood Alf, gasping for breath, midway between its knobbly mitts. To be continued… 
Image by adriankirby from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth. Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published. Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 22When Alf reached the large oak tree at the base of Trollop Knoll, he skidded to a stop on the other side, lent against the trunk, and heaved for breath. There was no point running further, the troll was gaining on him. Whatever was about to happen could happen here and now. And there came the troll, hissing and puffing like a berserk steamroller. The troll slowed its pace and trundled to a standstill. It sniffed the air like a bloodhound, followed its nose to the oak tree and peeked around the trunk. But Alf, who had regained his breath, dashed around to the trunk's other side. So it's come to this, thought Alf, a game of tag. Even though Alf was fitter than fit, and had the advantage of nimbleness, he didn't think he could play this game indefinitely; certainly not until the sun rose to turn the troll back to stone or make it explode. But for now, all Alf could do was stay on his feet, stay out of sight, and keep the trunk between them. The troll sniffed and followed his twitching nose around the tree. It trod slowly at first, and then picked up speed until the two of them tore along in a blurring headlong sprint. To be continued…  Image: Tree by Gert Aldmann The real world:Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 21
Alf gasped. The troll had flung Crusher sailing through the air as if it weighed nothing. The robot was small but heavy, and even Alf with his colossal strength had trouble lifting it off its feet. The troll roared, clapped its jaws, and set its hungry eyes on Alf and his basket of magic toadstools.
If the troll got his hands on them, Alf had a hunch they would break the curse that kept the troll turned to stone. Then it would haunt the estate forever more, hiding under a bridge somewhere, terrorising passers-by. No, that would never do. As security guard, it was his job to keep trespassers out of the Cloud Estate, and that included trolls. Right now, however, Alf didn't feel so happy about his responsibilities. His future looked no rosier than Crusher’s. He spun and ran back through the trees as fast as his long legs would carry him, and the troll came thudding behind. Alf leapt over bushes and boggy puddles so fast that wind whistled in his ears, but the troll kept pace and drew closer. If only I had wings, thought Alf. But such equipment was for angels, not for sinners like him. To be continued… 
Image by Maurizio Lanciotti from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them free, or wait to buy the whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 20
With Crusher between himself and the troll, Alf felt brave. "Are these what you're after?" he said, brandishing the basket of fat, juicy, curse-banishing toadstools. "Well, you can't have them, so bugger off."
The slobbering troll licked its lips and tried to step around Crusher, but the robot gave it no room. So the troll blasted out a new deafening roar and swung its right arm to brush Crusher aside. In one smooth movement, the little robot grabbed the troll's knotted wrist, jostled the creature out of balance, and tossed it over its shoulder. As if lost, the troll sat and gazed in all directions. Its mouth hung open and it scratched the top of its head. Then it saw Crusher, blinked twice, and lumbered to its feet. Cautious and curious, it shuffled up to the robot, bent forward, and sniffed. Alf couldn't help himself. He ordered Crusher to grab the Troll's vulgar nose and squeeze: a bad mistake. With surprising speed, the troll plucked a knife from its belt and slashed Crusher's forearm. Hydraulic fluid hissed from the gash, and Crusher's strength soon dwindled to nothing. After rubbing its nose, the troll grabbed the robot, as floppy now as a rag doll, and hurled it high into a nearby fur tree. And there it dangled, trapped in a tangle of branches, leaving Alf to face the troll. 
Image by OpenClipart-Vectors from Pixabay
The real world:
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth. |
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February 2020
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