When twins bicker over stolen loot, one of them must die...
On Wednesdays and Sundays, I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ novellas. You can check in regularly and read them for free, or wait to buy the entire story when published.
Life in the Clouds #5: Twin Cheats ® James Field.
In the last post: Alf rubs his hands with glee: tonight, a troll will stalk the forest and test Morris's manhood...
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 06
Morris marched along a narrow dirt-track path, mighty trees pressing on both sides. All the idiotic talk about trolls had annoyed him at first, but now he rambled with a spring in his step and whistled a jolly tune.
Hadn't his wife, Sibyl, said the troll was a lady? Yes, Husminx. His imagination pictured a slightly clad temptress with long flowing hair and figure-of-eight figure. Wouldn't that be a fitting encounter for a fine Don Juan like me?
Just as the sun grew too weak to see by, the path opened into a small glen, exposing the remaining daylight. A small lake boarded one side of the glen, tangled trees crowded around the other sides. In the fading light, Morris hurried to assemble his tent. He looked up at the sky. Dark clouds gathered and it looked like rain.
Sibyl had said the magical toadstools she wanted only grew on Trollop Knoll in full moonlight. Which meant, because of the clouds, that he wouldn't be picking any tonight.
Whatever the weather, he didn't mind. Slumbering by the lake and listening to fish jump, rain patter, and trees whisper in the breeze would soothe his soul like balsam. Pooh to the idea of trolls!
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If You Tell: A True Story of Murder, Family Secrets, and the Unbreakable Bond of Sisterhood by Gregg Olsen
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
They say real life is more unbelievable than fiction. This book proves the point. Shelly is a wife, a mother, a psychopath, a murderer, and if this hadn’t been a true story, I would soon have thrown it in the nearest bin and laughed; nobody can be that evil.
In my humble opinion, the writing style is poor. There is no plot, simply a catalogue of this sick woman’s gruesome misdeeds. However, I give it four stars because it riveted my attention right to the last page.
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