In the last Post: Fleeing from the troll, Alf wished he had wings. But they were for angels, not sinners like him...
Dear friends, 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 whole story when published.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 22
When Alf reached the large oak tree at the base of Trollop Knoll, he skidded to a stop on the other side, lent against the trunk, and heaved for breath. There was no point running further, the troll was gaining on him. Whatever was about to happen could happen here and now. And there came the troll, hissing and puffing like a berserk steamroller.
The troll slowed its pace and trundled to a standstill. It sniffed the air like a bloodhound, followed its nose to the oak tree and peeked around the trunk. But Alf, who had regained his breath, dashed around to the trunk's other side.
So it's come to this, thought Alf, a game of tag. Even though Alf was fitter than fit, and had the advantage of nimbleness, he didn't think he could play this game indefinitely; certainly not until the sun rose to turn the troll back to stone or make it explode.
But for now, all Alf could do was stay on his feet, stay out of sight, and keep the trunk between them. The troll sniffed and followed his twitching nose around the tree. It trod slowly at first, and then picked up speed until the two of them tore along in a blurring headlong sprint.
To be continued…
Image: Tree by Gert Aldmann
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