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Writing That Turns Heads and Opens Wallets

Part 18. A finger of lightning touched the top of Bert's head…

24/7/2022

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Lightning
A finger of lightning reached down and touched the top of Bert's head.
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Naked except for his underpants and a thin coating of tar and soggy feathers, Bert turned his face to the night sky and shivered. The storm was right above. A crackling flash of lightning made him blink and the following clap of thunder rattled Ye Old inn’s windows.
Those inside didn’t seem concerned. The soft music played on and the masqueraders carried on dancing. Then Bert recognised his fiancé, Olive. She’d dressed as Tinkerbell, complete with flimsy silk wings and glittery wand. She’d squeezed into an old-fashioned one-piece swimsuit, something saved from her youth because it was at least two sizes too small for her now. Her broad stocky hips bulged from beneath the swimsuit, and her plump chest, neck, and shoulders billowed from the top. Bert released an appreciative sigh and placed his palms over his heart: she was beautiful.

Not wanting to see more, Bert squeezed his eyes shut. As feared, the love of his life was being untrue. She was dancing with Robin Hood, a tall thin man in green tights, like what Rudolf Nureyev might wear, a tennis ball in his crotch and all.

Their antics became more and more sultry. Now Robin placed his hands on Olive’s wobbly backside, and she fixed her gaze on him and smiled. Their faces were so close it looked as though they would kiss. Bert stood there and stared, arms hanging and mouth gaping. This was worse than he'd imagined.

Thunder and lightning crashed right above Bert’s head. Rain poured as if he were standing under a waterfall. The Gods in their heaven ranted and raved, charging Bert’s anger to the point of explosion.

Bert raised his fists to the storm and howled, “Go ahead. I don’t give a damn if you strike me dead. Without Olive, my life ain’t worth living.” In response, a finger of lightning reached down and touched the top of his head.

Other fingers of lightning cracked through Ye Olde Inn’s timbers and blew the electrical fuses, casting the interior into blackness.

In the deafening clap of thunder, all eyes inside Ye Olde Inn turned to the rattling windows. One of them had shattered. Outside, framed and in full view, a large black figure glared back at them, its juddering body encased in sparkles and flashes.
 
To be continued… 
The real world:
 
Rather than miss an instalment, it’s easy to follow my blog on bloglovin’. They’ll give you a friendly nudge as I release new parts.
 
Like to know more about Alf, Bert and the rest of the gang? You can read their chaotic history in What on Earth.
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Image by WikimediaImages from Pixabay
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    Talvik, Norway


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