Rescue into Slavery, to ysabetwordsmith's prompt

This is to ysabetwordsmith's prompt in my call for prompts: "What happens when the abduction IS the rescue?"

Author's notes a and b:
a) This is set in the Tir na Cali (LJ Link) 'verse, where slave raiders from the West Coast country of Tir na Cali often steal American youth.

In this alternate-history world, the US is a much more rigid place in answer to what they perceive to be the godless heathen ways of their neighbor-enemy. Think stereotypical 1950's midwest morality.

b) As per the prompt, there is implied abuse in this story. The kid has not had a good life.


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Hour 28 of my Abduction [Call for Prompts]

The hours tick by on my [call for prompts about] abduction.

I have given in to the rythym of the thing, and taken a nice break for sleep, and another for a trip out wine tasting.

I write for them as they call out suggestions. I have written about an abduction by air, a rescue into slavery, an escape aided all unwitting, and a rescue, too late, and yet still on time. And still I write.

The money in the jar has reached $43, a respectable number, enough to merit another, longer story (what will it be, oh my captors? 2000 words, on your choice of story).

And still I write. Perhaps after a nap.

IRL Planners

1) This contest is kind of fun... I could probably find a use for "Approximately 2000 calories per day for 375 days"... considering Weightwatchers, that's almost 2 people x a year.

2) This TV Show, Doomsday Preppers, was a lot of fun.

Why don't preppers ever stock clothes? Or razors?

(edited to change "why don't they stock food?" to what I meant: "why don't they stock CLOTHES?")

Taken Prisoner, to @Inventrix's prompt, Planners' verse

To inventrix's commissioned prompt in my Call for Prompts: Rescue of a prisoner with severe Stockholm syndrome!

Planners-'verse, in the same loose era as the Anthropologist stuff.

The Aramob had not been expecting resistance when they went against the Village. Town people were soft, and folded easily. That was the wisdom of the elders, that was what the young warriors preached. Especially water-towns, where their food came easy and they could waste their time in games.

They had gone in soft, snuck in through the side streets, slide over the wall, ready to take what they needed and leave again. They didn't plan on leaving any bodies behind if they didn't have to. They were not the nasty tribes, who slaughtered when they could leave alive. The Aramob knew that if they left the villagers alive, there would be more to harvest next year.

In a moment of contemplation, Inosati thought that was what had saved their lives. The villagers had been waiting for them, the people of Johnsonport, waiting with spears and guns and, most humiliating of all, nets. Many Aramob had limped off, injured. Two had died - one on the spear of another Aramob, the other from an accidental headshot.
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