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.
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. Rather than miss an instalment, please subscribe and I’ll give you a nudge as they come out.
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 13
Alf didn't know what sound a troll might make: perhaps the deep-throated grunt of a bear, or the rumbling hiss of a crocodile, or the angry trump of an elephant? Could a troll speak, or at least utter basic words? He drew a sharp breath and let out a husky growl, the noise so hostile and ghastly that the hair on the back of his neck rose.
Morris, who stood atop Trollop Knoll, whipped his head around, tendons on his neck taut as rope. His mouth hung open and his eyes looked as though they would pop out: staring but not seeing. For a moment, Alf wondered if Morris had turned to stone, like an ugly gargoyle perched on the gutter of some building.
Alf followed his success with the blubber and bawl of all the dangerous animals he could think of. He thought it best to reach a climax straight away; and what a climax it was. If any normal person had seen him, they would have carted him off to the loony bin. "Leave - my - toadstools," he blabbered, and then lifted his chin and screamed like a wolf with a thorn in his paw.
Morris dropped both his basket and torch and dashed back to his tent, so fast, that dry leaves leapt into his slipstream and danced in the air behind him.
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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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