InterNutter

Indie writer seeks audience with an audience. Paying customers welcome. [pronouns: ze/hir] Daily free stories happen because it is an excellent counter to Writers' Block.

Burpengary East http://www.cmweller.com 12169 posts

Challenge #01026-B294: Before She Met Hwell

Person #1: They just have to deal with it. Life isn't fair.

Person #2 (softly, sadly): No, it isn't. But that doesn't mean we should be making it less so. -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: Wholeheartedly agreed]

Two guards watched the product file from the conditioning yards and into the truck. Ready for processing. The newbie stared with an open mouth.

"Hey, if you want one, you could snag it after the buyers have picked the best ones. Bawdy factory don't mind."

"Just... take one? Just like that? They're worth a fortune, aren't they?"

Garith looked over at the newbie. Was he ever that young and green? Probably. He remembered being more eager to get a free sample, though. "What's your name, kid?"

"D-Donald," he stuttered. As if he had initially tried saying something else.

"Well, Donald. It's like this. You don't take one, nobody cares. After the buyers have been through for the top models, the rest just go to a Bawdy factory. Never been to a hole shop, kid?"

The kid blushed vividly. "Sometimes...?"

"The factory cuts 'em up for transport and use. Nobody else wants one after the buyers are done. Best get a whole one or you'll be sticking your prick in factory meat the rest of your life. Better the diseases you got, right?" Garith laughed. "Or two or three. They can do more'n just be a hole, ya know."

The kid went so red that they nearly fainted.

Garith laughed again and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on. This lot's off for auction. Another lot's due back at the gate. I'll help you pick a trainer model."

The kid flinched at the cries from within the truck as it took off. Jeez, he was new.

"What's the matter?"

"They sound like... kids."

"It's what they get for not having a prick, Donald. They're less than us and they know it. It's the way things are and always will be. What? Did you come out of a rotten whore-hole or something?"

Donald blushed and shrugged. "Grew up in a hostel," he said in tones of please-stop-talking.

"Ain't your fault. Let's get you a nice free cut before they slice off the good bits."

*

This was her first day, and already Doe had decided she was going to quit. She had been a loner out of self-defence, back in the children's hostel. In a complex full of unwanted boys, she was the most bullied for being Other enough.

She spent too much time in the old books. Reading about impossible things. From tomes that had yet to be purged because budget cuts meant that only one official gave a cursory glimpse at the front shelves.

Doe learned banned things. Things she could never share. There, coming out of the van and leaking tears, were young women. Teenagers. None of them a day over fourteen. One or two had blood leaking down their legs.

There, but for a quirk of flesh, go I...

She'd never told anyone that she was a girl in disguise. She didn't dare. Not now. Not when she knew what happened to the girls, now. Sold to richer men than herself. Or mutilated for ready use at the hole-houses.

Or given away as treats to the guards.

One was screaming and fighting while the others marched docilely towards their impending demise.

"Her," Doe picked her out. "I'll take her home."

Garith grinned. "Into the old taming routine, eh? They don't come with a collar, but I can get you some tranq's. Should keep her under until she knows she ain't got nowhere."

Not if I can help it, thought Doe.

She didn't have clothes. None of them had clothes. The buyers liked an even tan and the conditioning complex made sure their product - the women - all had an even dose of ultra-violet light. Clothes for women were beyond Doe's budget. Even with Garith helping.

One of Doe's shirts was huge on her. A small pair of briefs had to suffice for underwear. She locked the doors anyway, because explaining things to her might take some time. Doe was already practising lines as she woke up. She made sure she was far away and not threatening.

She struggled out of her clothes. Of course. They were unfamiliar. Tucked herself into the corner furthest from Doe. She was almost blinded by her long hair.

"You're okay," Doe soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

She screamed. Doe let her scream until she had no scream left. None of the other men in this complex would stir themselves for her. Doe quietly got up and fetched a glass of water. They weren't used to anything else.

When she was done screaming, Doe put the water near to her hand. "It's going to be okay."

She didn't believe her. There was panic in her eyes and curses in her mouth. She had found out what happened to her people, too.

"I know," said Doe. "I'm sorry. I can't do anything for them..."

It took days before they had a conversation. Days before Seven Twenty-One realised that Doe's kindness was not about to ebb. Days before Seven caught Doe crying when she had to pee.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair on anyone. And getting used to it was too painful. Doe wound up crying in her arms. Telling Seven all about who she really was and why she would never, ever harm a fellow girl. About her plans to get them both the hell off of Greater Deregulation.

She remembered Seven reaching for the towel rod, and the look of panicked anger in her face. When Doe woke up, beaten and bruised, Seven was gone. Escaped.

She would be running to the authorities.

Doe left her uniform behind. It would only be an impediment, anyway. She needed to run. Now.

Straight for the spaceport. As fast as she could run.

Because no matter what she said, no matter what Seven reported... they were now coming to kill her.

(Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a Prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories! Or comment below!)

Herbing 'till I plotz...

I promised a photojournal entry, and you're about to get a photojournal entry.

We start with a simple, neglected herb garden:

Pictured, smol child, large rosemary Chaos is looking nervous because there was a wasp on the other side.

Chaos showing off a washing basket full of cut herbs We got a basket full of cuttings. most of them were actually useful.

This is just the LEFTOVER rosemary The leftovers. Some sprigs are bundled with the hope of making decent potential tea.

Finished Rosemary oil. It will be going out in much smaller bottles Heat-infused rosemary oil looks gross when its done, and in bulk.

Mint still being processed I had a freaking LOT of mint. So much that

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Challenge #01025-B293: One Near-Apocalyptic Afternoon in Bloomington, Illinois

The speech known as Abraham Lincoln's "Lost Speech" was given at the Bloomington Convention on May 29, 1856, in Bloomington, Illinois.

The traditional reason given for the lack of any written recollection of the Lost Speech is that Lincoln's skilled and powerful oration had mesmerized every person in attendance. Reporters were said to have laid down their pencils and neglected note taking, as if hypnotized by Lincoln's words. When the speech ended no notes existed, so media reports of the day simply

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Post-massacre update

I have successfully mutilated the Rosemary bush and decimated the mint population The house and my hands are redolent with the scent of both.

I tried enlisting some child labour to speed up the process, but Mayhem begged off early [feeling useless and then feeling sick] and Chaos got bored of picking mint leaves.

I have a sink full of unpicked mint, soaking in water and lemon juice to stop them browning whilst I take a well-earned break. And about a double-handful

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Challenge #01024-B292: Don't Let Them Breed

Sara Louise meets Sherlock (the Benedict Cumberach one). they both get bored easily with trouble ensuing. -- Anon Guest

Watson should have known they were in trouble when the suspected alien had vanished from a locked room without a trace. Scotland yard usually handed off such cases to a special military unit, but they were off on a completely different crisis.

Sherlock looked around the room, including the floor and the ceiling. Everything seemed undisturbed. Not to Sherlock's sharp eyes. He touched

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Where has all the money gone?

I discussed money issues with Beloved in the evening. As it turns out, most of the expenses were directly related to bills and paying off debts.

We're relatively debt free, right now. But we're also money poor.

And Christmas is going to be hellishly expensive, even with my frugality in the balance. For example: Beloved suggested using actual sealing wax for the gift basket stuff. Two of the lovely bottle types have corks, and they're going to need a functional seal.

I

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Challenge #01023-B291: No Such Thing as Normal

This poem: http://bonehandledknife.tumblr.com/post/130524095600/if-you-are-a-monster-stand-up-if-you-are-a -- RecklessPrudence

They called it the DevilPurge, and they came for all the creatures of the night. They came politely, with notarised invitations and assortments of red tape.

They helped the vampires move out. They assisted the werewolves. They kindly and gently moved the mausoleums of the undead. They bussed the witches, wizards and warlocks into a faraway place on the very borders of the kingdom.

To make things better, they said. To

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Time for Science!

Today, when I'm done with my writing, I am taking one of the pretty bottles I got for my artisinal rosemary product gift basket[now featuring mint], and I am going to use it... FOR SCIENCE!

These are wibbly wobbly pretty bottles, and I'm doing nine of everything, but for these ones... I am measuring their collective liquid volume.

Yep. I'm filling a bottle nine times and emptying it into a measuring cup so I know how much high-quality vinegar to purchase.

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Challenge #01022-B290: The Thirteenth House

Haunted House? So what. http://bonehandledknife.tumblr.com/post/131049565560/tbonechessor-leftbouquetarbiter-listen-ok -- RecklessPrudence

It was, of course, a fixer-upper. With their credit rating, the Smiths could afford little else. Callie looked up at the looming heap of crumbling Victorian glory and sighed. "It's another haunted one," she monotoned.

"Come on, Callie... The odds have to be in our favour, one time."

Callie just sighed. This was the twelfth such house they'd lived in. She was beginning to see the pattern. "There's history,

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We've started on our supplies...

My goal for this week and next week is to spend as little as humanly possible so that we have more money to save for Christmas.

The artisinal rosemary products are going to crap on that, more than a little. Mostly owing to the fact that I will have to purchase some tools and find a source of bulk white wine vinegar. Might have to discuss that with Beloved.

I'm doing nine bottles of dried leaves, eight of rosemary oil and six

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Challenge #01021-B289: You Know What You Did

You can be villainous all you like, little AI, but if the people writing the safeguards are competent, you get this: http://weirdlet.tumblr.com/post/131323113905/furious-peridot-witchoil-devilishdescent -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: Another one I must reblog to notify that this is a thing. Also, I am trying very hard not to channel Bender Bending Unit Rodriguez]

"Welcome to transit station Eighty-Six, the asshole of the universe," droned the alleged welcoming committee. "If you've been assigned work here, then you've made some really

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A breath of fresh... meat?

We got paid, we got paid! Kaloo kalay, O frabjous day!

I was not about to turn around and spend it all in one place, dear readers. I went to every last cheap zone I knew to get hold of some cheap noms. And some equally cheap plastic containers.

The golden circle factory outlet does some marvelous deals, and I took advantage of them. I now own a metric fuckton of rice, some juices for the kids, and more beetroot than I

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Challenge #01020-B288: Feel the Burn

This post: http://babblingbug.tumblr.com/post/131643642080/xtremecaffeine-copperbadge -- RecklessPrudence

[AN: Reblog that post with a linkie]

"The jingles, O my Powers, the jingles..." complained Wayne, apprentice of the Darkening Arts. "All night! It just kept singing them all night... I can't get them out of my head."

"But you got it in your head, right? You can remember all this shiz?" asked Davies.

"It's a terrible price. I thought a music demon would be harmless. I did all the cantrips.

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Holy fuck, I have an itinerary

Busy day today. At least, for my standards of "busy".

Gotta take Mayhem only to school, then turn around and take the cat to the vet. With the potential for UNEXPECTED BILL$$$$. Then I have to drop the cat back home before I take Chaos off to faraway Caloundra for a pediatric appointment.

Said appointment is free - yay!

BUT it will also decide how much financial assistance we get, if any - booo.

And the nice people I was advised to

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Challenge #01019-B287: Tough Assignment

Another one of these, please: http://thepreciousthing.tumblr.com/post/121702150607/finding-flight-okay-but-imagine-a-medieval -- RecklessPrudence

He went where he was summoned, of course. Demons did not have much in the way of free will. He did not question why.

What he did question, after he appeared in several appealing guises, was why it was not working. He was the living embodiment of hot, muscular temptation. He could even do doughy, fuzzy temptation. And he did, just in case.

He could not get a

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