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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. Rather than miss an instalment, please subscribe and I’ll give you a nudge as they come out. You can also follow by using Bloglovin. Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 05Alf couldn't help but chuckle at the plan forming in his mind. There was no hurry to set it in motion, so he strolled back to his gatehouse cottage and flipped a bloody beefsteak into a frying pan. Him and his little robot friend, Crusher, were on perimeter duty tonight, making sure The Cloud Estate’s alarms were in order. If he hurried, he would be in time to sneak down to the lake before midnight where Morris had made camp. At midnight, the pompous little man would search for toadstools. Despite the warnings, Morris didn’t believe that trolls would also be out looking for them. Alf didn’t believe in trolls either, but that wasn’t the point. Morris needed to have his manhood tested, and Alf was about to make sure the test would be tough. Giving the beefsteak no more than a minute on each side, Alf wolfed the juicy chunk of meat down his throat, gulped a mug of creamy tea, and threw himself on a sofa for a little nap. The night would be long, and much more fun than usual. The real world:Up here in Norway’s Arctic North, we’ve had a bit of snow. This is what my dustbin (trashcan) looks like: 
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Dear friends, on Tuesdays and Saturdays I’ll be 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. Rather than miss an instalment, please subscribe and I’ll give you a nudge as they come out.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 04
"I like to be out in the nature too," said Alf, stepping in front of Morris. "But not when there's trolls about." He raised his arms, wiggled his fingers, and gave his impression of a ghost. "Whooooh!" The sound ended with a little chuckle.
"Trolls don't sound like ghosts," said Morris, irritated. "How do you know? Have you ever seen one?" Morris grabbed his rucksack’s straps and tugged them away from his shoulder. His knuckles whitened. "You might be frightened," he said, marching away as fast as his heavy load and short legs would carry him, "but not a real man like me. There are no such things as trolls and ghosts. And I think the reason you know so much about my private affairs is because you’re a snooper. Good-day." Alf sucked in his bottom lip and shrugged. "Hope you come back alive,” he called. “Take care." He flexed his muscles and sent a mental command to his little robot friend, Crusher. It peeped agreement and bustled away to their gatehouse cottage to put the kettle on. Morris is a strange man, thought Alf. Despite the gardener's small stature he carried an air of stouthearted authority, of a soldierly quality, and many people from the local community respected his points of view and advice. In Alf's opinion, Morris was too high-and-mighty for his boots and wondered if this might be an ideal opportunity to test his manhood. Maybe I’ll take a trip down to the lake too, he thought, and grinned from ear to ear. To be continued… The real world:
This time last year I stood on the summit of Kilimanjaro. Not bad for a sixty-seven year old, eh? It wasn’t easy, and our small group (my two daughters and I) were the only ones to make it in a two-day period. I’m publishing my journal so that you can read about it: more news later.
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James Field
Talvik, Norway You can also Find me on 
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