Blog: a place to share my weird tales with you.

In the last post: Dick Charmer wanted to rest and eat. His neighbour, Olive, wanted to flirt...

9/5/2020

Dear friends, if you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. 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 entire story when published.

Enchanter on the Roof ® James Field. Part 07

Dick Charmer flashed an icy smile at Olive. She lay on a sunbed in the neighbouring garden, sucked a cherry from its stick, removed her sunglasses, and winked.

A frustrated old housewife, he thought. The Stables teemed with pretty young girls, stinking rich too, who were much more to his taste. He gave a half-hearted wave, stifled a yawn, and hurried back indoors to eat and rest.

Today was Thursday, disco night at Ye Olde Inn. After weeks of hard labour on the terrace house roof, where he'd played loud music and cavorted for his audience of rich young girls, he knew they’d be desperate to dance with him.

Later that evening, just as the last blush of daylight faded, he closed his front door and made toward the sound of music. It drew him like nectar to a bee. Tomorrow, he reckoned his work on the roof would be finished, but tonight, the time had come to harvest his booty.

Luckily, the pebble road was dry after so many days of fine weather; his dancing shoes weren’t suitable for mud and soft dung. As he walked, his steps fell into time with the music’s beat, and his shoulders and hips began to swing and sway. He flexed his fingers and kissed each tip in turn. At the disco, he’d treat his doting fans to his best moves.

To be continued…

Image by Gerd Altmann 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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In the last post: Bert's fiance, Olive, only had eyes for Dick Charmer, so Bert slouched away...

5/5/2020

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Enchanter on the Roof ® James Field. Part 06

At five-o'clock in the afternoon, Dick Charmer climbed down from the terrace house roof. This is a strange place, he thought. Almost like stepping a hundred years into the past. They banned most motorised vehicles, and if you wanted to get about, you either walked or used a horse.

In ages past, it had been part of the Cloud Estate, a hamlet for the mansion’s servants and farm workers. These days The Stables was a private community for the privileged, especially pampered girls who owned their own horse or came for a riding holiday.

Humping heavy slate tiles and buckets of tar and cement in the blazing sun had left him exhausted. His stomach craved food and he needed a refreshing shower and doze. While renovating the roof, The Stables’s owners had let him occupy the end terrace house, a three-up three-down affair, simple but adequate. He passed through the dwelling and into the kitchen, took a beer from the fridge, and wandered out into the generous garden.

The house cast a blessed shade, but the air still hung on him like a heavy quilt. He glanced across the fence and saw Olive stretched out on a sunbed. She wore a pair of large black sunglasses and a yellow polka-dot bikini that was at least two sizes too small.

“Hello,” she called and raised a champagne glass, complete with a cherry on a stick. "Care to join me?"

To be continued…

Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay

The real world:

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In the last post: Bert needed consoling: strutting cockerels are not interested in old hens like Olive, they prefer the young chicks...

2/5/2020

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Enchanter on the Roof ® James Field. Part 05

Bert looked down at Morris, born leader and gardener, whose head hardly reached to Bert’s chest. “Thanks, mate. You always know how to say the right things. Come to think of it, you don’t look so good yourself.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Morris kicked a stone and pressed his hands deeper into his pockets. “I thought my turnips would win the prize for biggest example this year, but they didn’t. It’s enough to make me want to hang myself.”

“Yeah, me too." Bert hesitated before saying more. Morris wasn't the type to hang himself, and he'd miss him if he did. Best not to encourage him. Better to make him happier by giving a compliment. "You really cheered me up by saying Olive is a scraggy old hen that nobody wants—except me. Ain’t that right, Alf?”

Alf, his best friend and colleague, shrugged and spat. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Bert. I’ve known Olive longer than you and she’s always been a floozy.”

Not wanting to hear more, Bert slouched away. He squeezed between the dancing throng of ecstatic girls and tapped on Olive’s shoulder. “Cooee! It’s only me. Can I have a few words?”

“Not now, Pet,” she said, never taking her eyes from Dick Charmer. “I’m busy. Maybe later.”

Busy? Yeah, Bert knew she was busy all right: she'd pasted on make-up, fixed her hair, and drowned herself in pong; all for the sake of that showoff stud on the roof. Bert opened his mouth, but no sounds formed. Instead, he shook his head and plodded off home.

To be continued…