In the last post: Sibyl warns Morris not to pick toadstools at midnight. Husminx, a ruthless lady troll, is after them too...
Dear friend, 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 03 With a mammoth rucksack strapped to his back, and a wicker basket dangling in his hand, Morris staggered off towards the estate’s lake. On his way, he was unlucky enough to meet Alf, one of the Cloud Estate's two security guards. Alf was a giant, with bulging muscles and a battered head as featureless and flat as an old leather football. A dumpy little robot stood by his side, about the same height as Morris.
"Where are you going?" asked Alf, a smile playing across his scarred face. "Mushroom picking?"
"Toadstools, if it's any of your business." Morris had a nasty suspicion that Alf was a nosy parker, with his cauliflower ear at keyholes and open windows. How else could he guess about the toadstools?
"I wouldn't dare go into the woods tonight," said Alf. "They say trolls are out and about."
Morris stiffened. "How do you know? Who says?”
Alf tapped his forehead. "I see and hear it all in here. Ask young Master Trevor, it was him who modified me third eye. It ain't my fault if I can see and hear through walls."
Morris snorted. Nitwits surrounded him on all sides. Apart from Alf’s idiocy, Sibyl believed in ghosts and magic, and young Master Trevor fiddle-faddled with technological humbug. Morris considered himself a down-to-earth sort of chap: a professional, first-class gardener. "All this talk of trolls is nonsense. I'm off to spend a peaceful night in God's magnificent nature. That's all."
"And pick toadstools for Sibyl."
"If you know so much, why ask?" Morris shifted the weight of his rucksack, almost toppled, caught his balance, and trudged on his way.
To be continued… The real world: Looking forward to seeing you here next year! Let’s make it a fun one! James.
"Where are you going?" asked Alf, a smile playing across his scarred face. "Mushroom picking?"
"Toadstools, if it's any of your business." Morris had a nasty suspicion that Alf was a nosy parker, with his cauliflower ear at keyholes and open windows. How else could he guess about the toadstools?
"I wouldn't dare go into the woods tonight," said Alf. "They say trolls are out and about."
Morris stiffened. "How do you know? Who says?”
Alf tapped his forehead. "I see and hear it all in here. Ask young Master Trevor, it was him who modified me third eye. It ain't my fault if I can see and hear through walls."
Morris snorted. Nitwits surrounded him on all sides. Apart from Alf’s idiocy, Sibyl believed in ghosts and magic, and young Master Trevor fiddle-faddled with technological humbug. Morris considered himself a down-to-earth sort of chap: a professional, first-class gardener. "All this talk of trolls is nonsense. I'm off to spend a peaceful night in God's magnificent nature. That's all."
"And pick toadstools for Sibyl."
"If you know so much, why ask?" Morris shifted the weight of his rucksack, almost toppled, caught his balance, and trudged on his way.
To be continued… The real world: Looking forward to seeing you here next year! Let’s make it a fun one! James.
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