Month: May 2009

Note from PAD: David Oakes currently holds the land speed record for Potato Moon, turning in his contribution less than four hours after getting the call.

Lost.

Lost.

Lost.

Emotionally crushed by Edwood’s indifference, Jakob was thrown under the bus
of time and into the memory of his experiences on the island. When he was
completely isolated. Totally and utterly alone. With no one around to
understand his absolutely unique and inconsolable solitude.

Well, except for the village. But he had good reasons to never talk to
them. In fact he was sure there was as many as six.

Continue Reading “POTATO MOON, Part 11 by David Oakes” →

PAD here. Ten entries since last Friday, so we’re ahead of the curve. Congrats to all contributors for a smooth first week.

Jakob’s pants burst into flame. He thought of how this was the perfect metaphor for his feelings for Bela. He made a mental note to write it down in his journal later. Then he remembered the that flames weren’t metaphorical and started screaming.

A cold foam sprayed over Jakob’s body. The freezing sensation reminded him of the cold showers he took several times a day to calm his flaming libido, tame his unbridled heart, and sooth his incessant athlete’s foot. When the mist cleared the flames on his pants were gone and Edwood stood petulantly before him holding an equally petulant fire extinguisher.

Continue Reading “POTATO MOON, Part 10 by Jason Bryant” →

“Handle you?” Bela’s eyes seemed then to mist over, and he stared at her, puzzled. “Your heat,” she said, and he swore she was panting now, like an overeager werewolf cub after too much rough and tumble – no, he thought, don’t think tumble, don’t think, but I am thinking it! he thought dramatically, a tumble amongst the King Edwards with–

With a gasp, he dragged his thoughts away from his desires – that similarity to the hated name! He growled and hunched and drew closer to Bela again. “What were you saying?”

“Your heat,” she whispered throatily, and then she emitted a small, delicate cough that made him tremble in places he had never known could tremble, at least outside of tremors in the earth and a mouthful of a particularly rank kind of Jimson weed that werewolves would eat when they needed to get more into their werewolfish spaces, or purge to maintain their slim, muscled shapes. Bela waved a delicate hand delicately before her face. “Your heat,” she said a third time. “You’re so hot it’s making you steam.”

Continue Reading “POTATO MOON, Part 9 by Steven E. McDonald” →