In the last post: The troll chased Alf around an oak tree, but Alf didn't think he could play tag indefinitely...
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 23Alf, who had acted like a troll and almost frightened the life out of Morris in his tent down by the lake, was now sprinting from a real, live troll. They hurtled around the trunk of a large oak tree and played tag: a game of death in Alf's case.
The troll's stamina seemed endless, and it didn't have the sense to stop and rest. First it rushed one way, then it changed direction and tore the other, and then back again, arms stretched ahead, reaching for Alf.
Long legs and supreme fitness were to Alf’s advantage. An important part of his training was to skip and dance, but not for hours on end. His legs were now so tired that he stumbled on tufts of grass and roots, and his lungs were sore from all the panting.
He wondered how long he could keep going before he fell, and then he’d have to wrestle with the monster. What a tragic end for such a talented bare-knuckle fighter as me, he thought, but the chance of me winning this tussle is like zero.
At last, the troll stopped and glanced around. It bared its teeth and made a sound that Alf guessed was swearing in troll language. Then it stretched its arms around the tree to reach Alf that way. Luckily, the trunk was so thick that the troll's hands couldn't close; and there stood Alf, gasping for breath, midway between its knobbly mitts.
To be continued…
Image by adriankirby from PixabayThe 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.
The troll's stamina seemed endless, and it didn't have the sense to stop and rest. First it rushed one way, then it changed direction and tore the other, and then back again, arms stretched ahead, reaching for Alf.
Long legs and supreme fitness were to Alf’s advantage. An important part of his training was to skip and dance, but not for hours on end. His legs were now so tired that he stumbled on tufts of grass and roots, and his lungs were sore from all the panting.
He wondered how long he could keep going before he fell, and then he’d have to wrestle with the monster. What a tragic end for such a talented bare-knuckle fighter as me, he thought, but the chance of me winning this tussle is like zero.
At last, the troll stopped and glanced around. It bared its teeth and made a sound that Alf guessed was swearing in troll language. Then it stretched its arms around the tree to reach Alf that way. Luckily, the trunk was so thick that the troll's hands couldn't close; and there stood Alf, gasping for breath, midway between its knobbly mitts.
To be continued…
Image by adriankirby from PixabayThe 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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