Because Blogger's "Adult warning" often goes into a perpetual loop (isn't working properly), I will be making all new posts at my WordPress blog. You can follow it even if you do not have a WordPress Account. There're also my Twitter and my Tumblr blog, my Facebook and my Google+ page and my group.
(Update: Blogger hasn't fixed its problem with the "adult warning". Will go back to posting at my WordPress blog)

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Majorca Flats -- 242


Cody didn't stop running till he'd almost collapsed with exhaustion. Sobbing with terror, he slowed to a walk, trying to do so as quietly as possible. Through the trees he could see the lights of Woodend and other hamlets far below, twinkling in the dark of the Ozzie bush. His hands were tied with a nylon cord. All the stories he'd read as a boy had the hero cutting his bonds with a convenient sharp edge. Now that he was tied himself, it didn't seem so plausible. There was no sharp edge. He slowed a bit more. His feet hurt. He wasn't used to going barefoot. Eucalyptus twigs stuck into his soft feet. Pebbles and stones hurt them. Still he walked through the forest. Unable to see properly under the canopy of the massive mountain ash trees, he stumbled into a bramble patch. The vines scraped and cut him, across his thighs and his groin. Bitterly he contemplated how it was his cock which had brought him to this. For a moment, he wished he were a eunuch. His head was clearing all the time. His terror was lessening, but now he was starting to wonder how he was going to explain this to Phillippa. There was nothing he could say. Every lie he'd ever told her came back to haunt him. He wanted to sit down and weep. But he ploughed on through the forest, heading down the side of the mountain towards the little hamlet of Mt Macedon, where he hoped there was a public phone.

Trading Post, Mt Macedon




Episodes 1 to 220 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

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