Bert felt jealous, cheated on, and blue. Then he discovered he could morph into a giant nightmarish slug...
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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 bit for bit, or leave a message in my 'contact' page, and I'll send the entire digital story to you for free when published.
Life in the Clouds #6: Take a Slug ® James Field.
In the last post: Despite also big tough Alf's misgivings about trolls in the forest, Morris sets off with his tent anyway...
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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The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
There’s a lot to like and a lot to dislike in this story. I like that it’s cosy, funny, and heart-warming. The plot, however, is a tragedy. There are two murders, and every character in the book, of which there are many, has a motif. With so many twists, turns, and red herrings throughout the narrative, it lost me in a virtual maze.
But the author commits the gravest crime: he introduces a new, guilty character right at the end of the story. Tut, tut, naughty.
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