In the last post: Sibyl warns Morris not to pick toadstools at midnight. Husminx, a ruthless lady troll, is after them too...
Dear friend, 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 03
With a mammoth rucksack strapped to his back, and a wicker basket dangling in his hand, Morris staggered off towards the estate’s lake. On his way, he was unlucky enough to meet Alf, one of the Cloud Estate's two security guards. Alf was a giant, with bulging muscles and a battered head as featureless and flat as an old leather football. A dumpy little robot stood by his side, about the same height as Morris.
The real world:
Looking forward to seeing you here next year! Let’s make it a fun one! James.
In the last post: Morris, the Cloud Estate's gardener, surprises his wife, Sibyl, by remembering that on this night she would would want him to pick toadstools...
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 02
Sibyl, who stood by the kitchen’s stone sink, spun on her chunky legs to face her husband, Morris. "No, you mustn't. Not tonight."
"But," Morris slid his hands from his pockets and held them wide, "isn't this a full moon on the ninth day of September? Isn't this the only night in goodness knows how many years those toadstools you're always on about will sprout?"
Sibyl strolled across the tiled floor, wiped her podgy hands on her pinafore, and stroked Morris on his chin. "You're a kind man, and what you say is true. But this is also the night the lady troll, Husminx, will be out looking for the toadstools."
Morris sucked in his potbelly and stretching to his full height, backbone straight as one of his garden rakes. Even so, the top of his head only reached to Sibyl's broad shoulders. He took a step back, lifted his heels, and laughed. "There are no such things as trolls, especially in this part of the world."
"Yes there are, and you don't want to mess with this one. She's pretty, but if she thinks you're after her toadstools she'll tear your throat out and leave you for dead."
Morris brushed at the air, as if dismissing an irritating fly. "Don't you go worrying about me, sweetheart. If I should meet a troll, it’ll worse for her."
To be continued...
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 01
Morris sat on his potting shed steps and breathed slow and easy. Mansion life had many advantages: privacy among the best. He gazed around the garden in his care; it had been a good year; no hobgoblins to ruin his prize vegetables.
With eyes half closed, he chuckled at the idea of hobgoblins and the such. His garden thrived because of his skill, and in the unlikely event it should fail he wouldn’t blame his misfortune on imaginary evil spirits, like some people he knew would do.
He marvelled at the late summer sunset, the reddest he’d seen in years. Then he closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and smiled. At times, his wife, Sibyl, expected him to do the weirdest of tasks. There would be a full moon tonight and she would want him to traipse through the woods at midnight in search of toadstools.
The thought of rambling around in the woods late at night didn’t worry Morris. He could spend the night in a tent, beside the estate's small lake. Years had passed since he last camped out, and with silver moonlight bathing the landscape, the night would be fascinatingly mystical.
He strolled around the vegetable beds, past the herb garden, and into one of the mansion's back doors. It opened into a cavernous kitchen. Thinking he'd surprise Sibyl by remembering this special night, he said, "Make me a good packed supper, Woman. Tonight I shall go to the forest and pick those enchanted toadstools for you."
To be continued…
The real world:
Here's a little piece of my world in Norway's arctic. This picture of the moon was taken from my lounge window, at 11:00 am. This is as light as it gets until the sun returns at the end of January!
It's easy to follow James's blog on: Follow
Best Kept Secret by Jeffrey Archer
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
Did Not Finish.
This is book three in a series of seven. The principal plotline in the first two books is: who is Harry Clifton’s father? Is he a wealthy, titled upper-class aristocrat, or a low-class dock worker bum? By book three, because it’s the best-kept secret, we still don’t know. And as Harry doesn’t care, one way or the other, neither do I.
Apart from that, the storyline has developed into a soap opera, with plot elements dragging on the same as the same as the same...
View all my reviews
James at Goodreads