If you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.
 
Life in the Clouds #4: Evil Portent ® James Field.
Previously from posts 16 - 19…
 
 
“Open up,” they heard voices cry.
 
The alien father closed his eyes and summoned a deep breath, holding it in. Turning his head a fraction, as though straining to understand the voices, he uttered a soft curse and tutted. “I feared the Guardians were here, but it’s simply the villagers.”
 
Bert’s stomach growled, he noticed a headache coming on, and if he didn’t eat something soon he worried he'd lose his powers of reasoning. The crowd’s urgent mumbling outside and the loud thudding on the door drove him crazy. “Can’t you see what they want?”
 
“They sound panicky,” said the alien father.
 
“Well, at least they ain’t hungry, so I don’t see what else they’ve got to fret about. Are you going to tell them to go away, or shall I?”
 
The alien father squeezed past Bert, rushed to the door, and tore it open. “What is it?” he asked, a quiver in his voice.
 
Bert peered over his head and narrow shoulders and saw the whole yard swarmed with little people. As far as he could see, the entire village had gathered. The Elder headed the group, his fist still raised and ready to bash against the door. “The Guardians are coming in their hundreds,” he said, and his knees rattled in his baggy shorts. He pointed to the citadel on the mountain. “They’re firing cannons and hurling death rays in every direction.”
 
The alien father stopped to listen, then darted out to see for himself. Bert pressed his shoulders through the opening, rose to his full six-foot and five-inches, stretched his back, and let out a groan of relief. The villagers must have seen him as an overgrown gorilla because they yelped and scuttled to a prudent distance.
 
Even on Earth, Bert had the same effect on people, so he ignored their reaction and peered across to the distant hill with its citadel. In that direction, the heavens had turned black with the bruise of thick angry clouds. The darkening sky rumbled like Bert’s empty stomach and jagged silver flashes jabbed at the coming night. A cool breeze caressed his bare arms and a lone drop of rain kissed his bald head. “It’s only a storm.” Bert could see his new friend was uncertain.
 
“It could be thunder and lightning,” said the alien father, “but it could also be a new offensive by the Guardians. In times like this, when we’ve opened another port, who can tell?”
 
“We take no chances,” said the Elder. “This house has an underground shelter," he called to the crowd. "We take refuge here.”
 
Like a bunch of frightened mice, the villagers surged to the alien father’s house. The alien father stood in the entrance, arms stretched, blocking them out. “Not so fast,” he said.
 
The crowd bowled the alien father aside and stormed in. He tried to protest, but nobody took any notice. Outside, the distant rumbling grew louder. “It’s only a storm,” said the alien father. “More violent than normal, but that’s all it is.”
 
“No,” insisted the Elder. “You have angered the Guardians by hiding the children and opening a tunnel to another planet. They're amassing in large numbers, and soon they'll be here to kill us all.” He jabbed a finger in the alien father’s chest. “You brought them, you shelter us.”
 
It would have been easy for Bert to stop them from occupying the alien father's house. All he'd needed to do was sit in the doorway, and if the Elder had dared to poke him in the chest, he would have snapped his finger off. It wasn't exactly his intuition that told him not to interfere, more his hunger that had made his brain too sluggish to react.
 
Bert peered in at them through the open door. The house was so crowded that everyone sat side by side on the floor, leaving no room for him. They’d even occupied the bedrooms. The underground shelter was nothing more than a cool pantry, already filled with sacks of bamboo shoots.
 
“Anybody got anything decent to eat?” called Bert. It was soon clear that nobody had food with them. In their hurried fright, they’d forgotten to bring any.
 
The intruders hadn’t been sitting long in the alien father's house before a cry went out for drink, and another for food. “We eat what we find,” called the Elder, and all cheered in agreement. “We can’t starve to death in this hour of refuge.”
 
They opened cupboards, placed a huge pan on the heater box, and prepared bamboo tip porridge in vast quantities. Bert would have settled for a bucket of popcorn, or a raw carrot or even boiled spinach to make his muscles grow like Popeye. Anything but that disgusting porridge.
 
The alien father tottered out of his house and sat next to Bert. He spoke through his teeth with forced restraint. “Am I not master in my own home,” he said. “This is how we are. We flock together when frightened, and with the enemy out of sight and hearing, all we think about is food. My food.”
 
Bert patted him on the arm. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” It occurred to him this was the first physical contact he’d made with any of them, and the tough little guy didn’t react worse than stiffening and going still. “If you let me go home, I’ll bring some seeds with me too. You could grow corn and oranges and potatoes and all sorts of stuff that tastes delicious.”
 
With a probing gaze, the alien father cast a glance into Bert’s face. He wet his lips and swallowed hard. “I’ll think about it.” Then, with hesitant steps, he went back into his house.
 
Part 20:
In this post: Bert hurls a boulder…
 
With everybody slurping at their porridge, conversation settled to a mumble. Bert sat outside, and many thoughts came and went in his sluggish brain. Thunder still rumbled up on the mountain, and he didn’t understand how the little people mistook the storm for an invasion. The idiots were so hysterical that he couldn’t imagine how to convince them otherwise.
 
Such behaviour irritated Bert. Wasn’t there ever a time in their past when they had more guts? The only one who showed signs of bravery was the alien father, and even that didn’t amount to much.
 
A hard smile came to his lips. He needed release for his frustration, and the little people needed shaking up. Glancing about, he singled out a large boulder and tested its weight. He guessed eighty kilos and was about the size of a briefcase.
 
Far too light, he could have juggled three that size. Then he noticed one as big as a suitcase and almost pooed himself lifting it above his head. With his teeth gritted, and muscles cramping under the strain, he stumbled the few steps back to the house and with a last supreme effort tossed the boulder against it with all his might.
 
It pummelled the building like a cannonball, and inside he heard plaster and cement fall from the wall and ceiling. “Yeah, now the weedy little runts have something to think about other than porridge and water.”
 
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.
-

If you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.
 
#4: Evil Portent ® James Field.
Previously from posts 15 - 18…
 
 
The alien father visibly shook in his boots.
 
“Why not let me go home and come back with a pile of weapons?" Bert drew his knife, the eight-inch blade flashing in the light. "I only use this as a toothpick. With a few bazookas we’ll soon stop those pesky Guardians. Then we can all live happily ever after.”
 
“I’d give anything to be as big and strong as you, Bert. Then I wouldn’t be so frightened of them.”
 
“Does that mean you’ll let me fetch some dynamite and stuff?”
 
“How can I trust you’ll return?”
 
That was a good question. The answer was simple. He'd return because it was the right deed to do. If it came to a fight, he’d die for his buddies, even new buddies like these kindly little people who ate nothing but repulsive grunge. He had his moral values, too. He’d never allow bullies to lay a finger on children or animals, and he wouldn’t let space invaders continue to ravish this fine world for all the money in China. “If I didn’t come back to help you, I’d never forgive myself.”
 
“No, forget it. It can never be. Our people are not warriors. In our millions of years of evolution, there has never been a war. Beside, the Guardians would follow you and ravish your planet.”
 
That was a problem Bert would sort out if and when it should happen. Right now, he needed the little man on his side. “You were brave enough to go against the Elder’s rules and open a new tunnel to my planet.”
 
“Yes, and look what trouble I’ve caused. The Guardians are keeping an extra eye on us when all we want is inconspicuous peace.”
 
“Don’t look so glum, you saved the lives of all your children.”
 
“No, I didn’t. The guardians will come again, and when they see you, they’ll punish us. Oh, woe is me.”
 
Just then, a hammering of fists erupted on his door, and the poor man almost fainted.
 
“Open up,” they heard voices cry.
 
The alien father closed his eyes and summoned a deep breath, holding it in. Turning his head a fraction, as though straining to understand the voices, he uttered a soft curse and tutted. “I feared the Guardians were here, but it’s simply the villagers.”
 
Bert’s stomach growled, he noticed a headache coming on, and if he didn’t eat something soon he worried he'd lose his powers of reasoning. The crowd’s urgent mumbling outside and the loud thudding on the door drove him crazy. “Can’t you see what they want?”
 
“They sound panicky,” said the alien father.
 
“Well, at least they ain’t hungry, so I don’t what else they’ve got to fret about. Are you going to tell them to go away, or shall I?”
 
The alien father squeezed past Bert, rushed to the door, and tore it open. “What is it?” he asked, a quiver in his voice.
 
Bert peered over his head and narrow shoulders and saw the whole yard swarmed with little people. As far as he could see, the entire village had gathered. The Elder headed the group, his fist still raised and ready to bash against the door. “The Guardians are coming in their hundreds,” he said, and his knees rattled in his baggy shorts. He pointed to the citadel on the mountain. “They’re firing cannons and hurling death rays in every direction.”
 
The alien father stopped to listen, then darted out to see for himself. Bert pressed his shoulders through the opening, rose to his full six-foot and five-inches, stretched his back, and let out a groan of relief. The villagers must have seen him as an overgrown gorilla because they yelped and scuttled to a prudent distance.
 
Even on Earth, Bert had the same effect on people, so he ignored their reaction and peered across to the distant hill with its citadel. In that direction, the heavens had turned black with the bruise of thick angry clouds. The darkening sky rumbled like Bert’s empty stomach and jagged silver flashes jabbed at the coming night. A cool breeze caressed his bare arms and a lone drop of rain kissed his bald head. “It’s only a storm.” Bert could see his new friend was uncertain.
 
“It could be thunder and lightning,” said the alien father, “but it could also be a new offensive by the Guardians. In times like this, when we’ve opened another port, who can tell?”
 
“We take no chances,” said the Elder. “This house has an underground shelter," he called to the crowd. "We take refuge here.”
 
Like a bunch of frightened mice, the villagers surged to the alien father’s house. The alien father stood in the entrance, arms stretched, blocking them out. “Not so fast,” he said.
 
The crowd bowled the alien father aside and stormed in. He tried to protest, but nobody took any notice. Outside, the distant rumbling grew louder. “It’s only a storm,” said the alien father. “More violent than normal, but that’s all it is.”
 
“No,” insisted the Elder. “You have angered the Guardians by hiding the children and opening a tunnel to another planet. They are arriving in large numbers, and soon they will be here to kill us all.” He jabbed a finger in the alien father’s chest. “You brought them, you shelter us.”
 
It would have been easy for Bert to stop them from occupying the alien father's house. All he'd needed to do was sit in the doorway, and if the Elder had dared to poke him in the chest, he would have snapped his finger off. It wasn't exactly his intuition that told him not to interfere, more that it had made his brain too sluggish to react.
 
Bert peered in at them through the open door. The house was so crowded that everyone sat side by side on the floor, leaving no room for him. They’d even occupied the bedrooms. The underground shelter was nothing more than a cool pantry, already filled with sacks of bamboo shoots.
 
“Anybody got anything decent to eat?” called Bert. It was soon clear that nobody had food with them. In their hurried fright, they’d forgotten to bring any.
 
Part 19:
In this post: Bert offers a seed of hope…
 
They hadn’t been sitting long before a cry went out for drink, and another for food. “We eat what we find,” called the Elder, and all cheered in agreement. “We can’t starve to death in this hour of refuge.”

They opened cupboards, placed a huge pan on the heater box, and prepared bamboo tip porridge in vast quantities. Bert would have settled for a bucket of popcorn, or a raw carrot or even boiled spinach to make his muscles grow like Popeye. Anything but that disgusting porridge.

The alien father tottered out of his house and sat next to Bert. He spoke through his teeth with forced restraint. “Am I not master in my own home,” he said. “This is how we are. We flock together when frightened, and with the enemy out of sight and hearing, all we think about is food. My food.”

Bert patted him on the arm. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” It occurred to him this was the first physical contact he’d made with any of them, and the tough little guy didn’t react worse than stiffening and going still. “If you let me go home, I’ll bring some seeds with me too. You could grow corn and oranges and potatoes and all sorts of stuff that tastes delicious.”

With a probing gaze, the alien father cast a glance into Bert’s face. He wet his lips and swallowed hard. “I’ll think about it.” Then, with hesitant steps, he went back into his house.
 
 
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.
-

If you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.
 
#4: Evil Portent ® James Field.
Previously from posts 14 - 17…
 
 
“Many hundreds of years ago, our people dominated Ewepiter in their billions. They drove almost all other species to extinction. Food was short, pollution was high, and our world was dying. We needed to find a new planet to live on, so we built the...” he scratched his head, concentrating, then shrugged, “the doodads.”
 
“The gadget that makes the tunnel between planets?”
 
“Yes. When we activate a tunnel, we only have a limited control over where it opens. The planet must be hospitable: breathable atmosphere, comfortable temperature, compatible gravity, and so on; but we cannot tell what life forms live there. When we pass through the tunnel, we anchor the other end by placing a doodad there too. Unfortunately, our first and only attempt opened on the Guardian’s planet. They invaded us, confiscated our technology, and farmed us for the meat of our bodies.”
 
“Why did you come to my planet then?”
 
“On all Ewepiter, we have just two doodads left. We’ve kept them hidden all these years and never used them. When the Guardians came to our village a few days ago to round up the young, I ordered the mother of my children to gather all the infants in our village and take them through the tunnel to safety. If lucky, she might have found a planet where we could all escape. Alas, this time also, it opened on a useless, hazardous world, and now you are here and can never return.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“We closed the tunnel and hid the doodad again.”
 
“What about the one that's left behind on my world, in number-three Flintstones Terrace?”
 
“Lost forever.”
 
Bert shook his head slightly. “We know where it is, so it ain't lost." He scrunched his eyebrows together. "What about if you turned the doodad on again at this end?”
 
“The tunnel would open, but you will never find it and use it, and neither must the Guardians. The next time it opens, the Guardians will find it easily and invade your world, and the fate of the Berts will be the same as Ewepitarians." He spread his dinky legs, rested his hands on his hips, and gave Bert a harsh squint. "The destiny of your planet is in your hands.”
 
Cogs swirled in Bert’s brain. “What about if you smash the Guardian’s doodad? The one that opens to their world?”
 
“That is why we call them Guardians. They guard the doodad in their citadel on the hill. Nobody dares go there.”
 
“What?”
 
“I tried to organise a surveillance group once, but everyone said I was mad.”
 
“So you just let them piss all over you?”
 
“What else can we do?”
 
“Fight back.”
 
The alien father visibly shook in his boots.
 
“Why not let me go home and come back with a pile of weapons?" Bert drew his knife, the eight-inch blade flashing in the light. "I only use this as a toothpick. With a few bazookas we’ll soon stop those pesky Guardians. Then we can all live happily ever after.”
 
“I’d give anything to be as big and strong as you, Bert. Then I wouldn’t be so frightened of them.”
 
“Does that mean you’ll let me fetch some dynamite and stuff?”
 
“How can I trust you’ll return?”
 
That was a good question. The answer was simple. He'd return because it was the right deed to do. If it came to fight, he’d die for his buddies, even new buddies like these kindly little people who ate nothing but repulsive grunge. He had his moral values, too. He’d never allow bullies to lay a finger on children or animals, and he wouldn’t let space invaders continue to ravish this fine world for all the money in China. “If I didn’t come back to help you, I’d never forgive myself.”
 
“No, forget it. It can never be. Our people are not warriors. In our millions of years of evolution, there has never been a war. Beside, the Guardians would follow you.”
 
“You were brave enough to go against the Elder’s rules and open a new tunnel to my planet.”
 
“Yes, and look what trouble I’ve caused. The Guardians are keeping an extra eye on us when all we want is inconspicuous peace.”
 
“Don’t look so glum, you saved the lives of all your children.”
 
“No, I didn’t. The guardians will come again, and when they see you, they’ll punish us. Oh, woe is me.”
 
Just then, a hammering of fists erupted on his door, and the poor man almost fainted.
 
“Open up,” they heard voices cry.
 
The alien father closed his eyes and summoned a deep breath, holding it in. Turning his head a fraction, as though straining to understand the voices, he uttered a soft curse and tutted. “I feared the Guardians were here, but it’s simply the villagers.”
 
Bert’s stomach growled, he noticed a headache coming on, and if he didn’t eat something soon he worried he'd lose his powers of reasoning. The crowd’s urgent mumbling outside and the loud thudding on the door drove him crazy. “Can’t you see what they want?”
 
“They sound panicky,” said the alien father.
 
“Well, at least they ain’t hungry, so I don’t what else they’ve got to fret about. Are you going to tell them to go away, or shall I?”
 
The alien father squeezed past Bert, rushed to the door, and tore it open. “What is it?” he asked, a quiver in his voice.
 
Bert peered over his head and narrow shoulders and saw the whole yard swarmed with little people. As far as he could see, the entire village had gathered. The Elder headed the group, his fist still raised and ready to bash against the door. “The Guardians are coming in their hundreds,” he said, and his knees rattled in his baggy shorts. He pointed to the citadel on the mountain. “They’re firing cannons and hurling death rays in every direction.”
 
The alien father stopped to listen, then darted out to see for himself. Bert pressed his shoulders through the opening, stretched his back, and let out a groan of relief. The villagers must have seen him as an overgrown gorilla because they yelped and scuttled to a prudent distance.
 
Even on Earth, Bert had the same effect on people, so he ignored their reaction and peered across to the distant hill with its citadel. In that direction, the heavens had turned black with the bruise of thick angry clouds. The darkening sky rumbled like Bert’s empty stomach and jagged silver flashes jabbed at the coming night. A cool breeze caressed his bare arms and a lone drop of rain kissed his bald head. “It’s only a storm.”
 
Bert could see his new friend was uncertain.
 
“It could be thunder and lightning,” said the alien father, “but it could also be a new offensive by the Guardians. In times like this, when we’ve opened another port, who can tell?”
 
“We take no chances,” said the Elder. “This house has an underground shelter," he called to the crowd. "So we take refuge here.”
 
Like a bunch of frightened mice, the villagers surged to the alien father’s house. The alien father stood in the entrance, arms stretched, blocking them out. “Not so fast,” he said.
 
Part 18:
In this post: Villagers shelter in the alien father's house…
 
The crowd bowled the alien father aside and stormed in. He tried to protest, but nobody took any notice. Outside, the distant rumbling grew louder. “It’s only a storm,” said the alien father. “More violent than normal, but that’s all it is.”
 
“No,” insisted the Elder. “You have angered the Guardians by hiding the children and opening a tunnel to another planet. They are arriving in large numbers, and soon they will be here to kill us all.” He jabbed a finger in the alien father’s chest. “You brought them, you shelter us.”
 
It would have been easy for Bert to stop them from occupying the alien father's house. All he'd needed to do was sit in the doorway, and if the Elder had dared to poke him in the chest, he would have snapped his finger off. It wasn't exactly his intuition that told him not to interfere, more that it had made his brain too sluggish to react.
 
Bert peered in at them through the open door. The house was so crowded that everyone sat side by side on the floor, leaving no room for him. They’d even occupied the bedrooms. The underground shelter was nothing more than a cool pantry, already filled with sacks of bamboo shoots.
 
“Anybody got anything decent to eat?” called Bert. It was soon clear that nobody had food with them. In their hurried fright, they’d forgotten to bring any.
 
 
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.
-

If you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.
 
#4: Evil Portent ® James Field.
Previously from posts 13 - 16…
 
 
Irritation flared in Bert. Rather than do or say something he might regret, he crawled out of the Elder’s hut on hands and knees. He wanted to go home to Olive, to his Chums the Alsatians, and his horse, Big Foot.
 
The doodad that opened the tunnel between their planets was in the Elder’s hut. In his younger days, Bert had been thief, good at it too. Someway or another, as sure as his name was Bert, he’d snitch the doodad and transport himself back to Earth. As soon as he re-entered number three Flintstone Terrace, all he needed to do was turn the doodad off. End of problem.
 
The alien woman who'd kidnapped him waited outside. “Don’t be angry,” she said. “Stay here while the Elder dishes out my punishment. Then I’ll take you to my cottage.”
 
Two minutes later, she was out again, her face ashen. “Come.”
 
“What’s the punishment?”
 
“Food rationing for three days. Half measure.”
 
“That ain’t so bad. You can have my share.”
 
They trekked through the village of well-spaced bamboo huts and arrived at another stone-built house, not as large or austere as the Elder’s, but inviting and cosy. It also had a proper, solid door. Inside, a small man greeted the woman with a big hug, and tears flowed easily. Bert crouched, but could still feel the ceiling scrub his bald head.
 
“This is the father of my children,” said the alien woman.
 
“Welcome,” said the alien father. “Are you hungry?”
 
Unlike the Elder, he appeared unafraid of Bert. For an Ewepitarian he was tall, almost reaching Bert’s belly button. The horny nodes on his forehead were more prominent than the woman’s, and his features hinted at a strong character. There were no chairs big enough for Bert, so he sat cross-legged on the floor, his head on a level with the alien father’s head. “Depends what you 're offering,” he said.
 
“Bamboo porridge. There is nothing else.”
 
“Then I ain’t hungry.”
 
“Sit!” said the alien father.
 
"I am sitting."
 
The alien father stared down at the floor, hands clasped. “You are here through no fault of your own.” He reached out to touch Bert, then pulled back as if not worthy, or perhaps nervous. “I owe you an explanation.”
 
“Too blinking right you do.”
 
“Many hundreds of years ago, our people dominated Ewepiter in their billions. They drove almost all other species to extinction. Food was short, pollution was high, and our world was dying. We needed to find a new planet to live on, so we built the...” he scratched his head, concentrating, then shrugged, “the doodads.”
 
“The gadget that makes the tunnel between planets?”
 
“Yes. When we activate a tunnel, we have no control over where the other end opens. When we pass through, we anchor the other end by placing a doodad there too. Unfortunately, our first and only attempt opened on the Guardian’s planet. They invaded us, confiscated our technology, and farmed us for the meat of our bodies.”
 
“Why did you come to my planet then?”
 
“On all Ewepiter, we have just two doodads left. We’ve kept them hidden all these years and never used them. When the Guardians came to our village to round up the young, I ordered the mother of my children to gather all the infants in our village and take them through the tunnel to safety. If lucky, she might have found a planet where we could all escape. Alas, this time also, it opened on a useless, hazardous world, and now you are here and can never return.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“We closed the tunnel and hid the doodad again.”
 
“What about the one that's left behind on my world, in number-three Flintstones Terrace?”
 
“Lost forever.”
 
“We know where it is, so it ain't lost. What about if you turned the doodad on again at this end?”
 
“The tunnel would open, but you will never find it and use it, and neither must the Guardians. The next time it opens, the Guardians will find it easily and invade your world, and the fate of the Berts will be the same as Ewepitarians." He spread his dinky legs, rested his hands on his hips, and gave Bert a harsh squint. "The destiny of your planet is in your hands.”
 
Cogs swirled in Bert’s brain. “What about if you smash the Guardian’s doodad? The one that opens to their world?”
 
“That is why we call them Guardians. They guard the doodad in the citadel on the hill. Nobody dares go there.”
 
“What?”
 
“I tried to organise a surveillance group once, but everyone said I was mad.”
 
“So you just let them piss all over you?”
 
“What else can we do?”
 
“Fight back.”
 
The alien father visibly shook in his boots.
 
“Why not let me go home and come back with a pile of weapons?" He drew his knife, the eight-inch blade flashing in the light. "I only use this as a toothpick. With a few bazookas we’ll soon stop those pesky Guardians. Then we can all live happily ever after.”
 
“I’d give anything to be as big and strong as you, Bert. Then I wouldn’t be so frightened of them.”
 
“Does that mean you’ll let me fetch some dynamite and stuff?”
 
“How can I trust you’ll return?”
 
That was a good question. But he would because it was the right deed to do. If it came to fight, he’d die for his buddies, even new buddies like these kindly little people who ate nothing but repulsive grunge. He had his moral values, too. He’d never allow bullies to lay a finger on children or animals, and he wouldn’t let space invaders continue to ravish this fine world for all the money in China. “If I didn’t come back to help you, I’d never forgive myself.”
 
“No, forget it. It can never be. Our people are not warriors. In our millions of years of evolution, there has never been a war.”
 
“You were brave enough to go against the Elder’s rules and open a new tunnel to my planet.”
 
“Yes, and look what trouble I’ve caused. The Guardians are keeping an extra eye on us when all we want is inconspicuous peace.”
 
“Don’t look so glum, you saved the lives of all your children.”
 
“No, I didn’t. The guardians will come again, and when they see you, they’ll punish us. Oh, woe is me.”
 
Just then, a hammering of fists erupted on his door, and the poor man almost fainted.
 
“Open up,” they heard voices cry.
 
The alien father uttered a soft curse and tutted. “I feared the Guardians were here, but it’s simply the villagers.”
 
Bert’s stomach growled, he noticed a headache coming on, and if he didn’t eat something soon he was certain his strength would bleed away. The crowd’s urgent mumbling outside and the loud thudding on the door drove him crazy. “Can’t you see what they want?”
 
“They sound panicky,” said the alien father.
 
“Well, at least they ain’t hungry, so I don’t what else they’ve got to fret about. Are you going to tell them to go away, or shall I?”
 
The alien father squeezed past Bert, rushed to the door, and tore it open. “What is it?” he asked, a quiver in his voice.
 
Bert peered over his head and narrow shoulders and saw the whole yard swarmed with little people. As far as he could see, the entire village had gathered. The Elder headed the group, his fist still raised and ready to bash against the door. “The Guardians are coming in their hundreds,” he said, and his knees rattled in his baggy shorts. He pointed to the citadel on the mountain. “They’re firing cannons and hurling death rays in every direction.”
 
Part 17:
In this post: Bert sees a storm coming…
 
The alien father stopped to listen, then darted out to see for himself. Bert pressed his shoulders through the opening, stretched his back, and let out a groan of relief. The villagers must have seen him as an overgrown gorilla because they yelped and scuttled to a prudent distance.
 
Even on Earth, Bert had the same effect on people, so he ignored their reaction and peered across to the distant hill with its citadel. In that direction, the heavens had turned black with the bruise of thick angry clouds. The darkening sky rumbled like Bert’s empty stomach and jagged silver flashes jabbed at the coming night. A cool breeze caressed his bare arms and a lone drop of rain kissed his bald head. “It’s only a storm.”
 
Bert could see his new friend was uncertain.
 
“It could be thunder and lightning,” said the alien father, “but it could also be a new offensive by the Guardians. In times like this, when we’ve opened another port, who can tell?”
 
“We take no chances,” said the elder. “With its underground shelter, this is the safest building in the village. So we better take refuge here.”
 
Like a bunch of frightened mice, the villagers surged to the alien father’s house. The alien father stood in the entrance, arms stretched, blocking them out. “Not so fast,” he said.
 
 
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.
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If you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.

If you like a good chuckle, dim-witted heroes, and larger-than-life villains, then you'll love this fascinating series. On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ stories. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.