☣ FIRST: (voice.)
( There's a bit of a pause before anyone speaks. when the voice does start, though, it's pretty low. Flat, almost, like the speaker is tired, and her voice sounds pretty rough and husky-- and distinctly Australian. She sounds decidedly detached from what's just happened, considering it's her first entry. )
So this place is Death City, huh? Interesting name. This gadget's pretty interesting, too. More fancy than anything I've ever seen. Homer'd probably have a fit if he knew I had this while he's still trying to keep that radio from crapping out on us. ( A brief pause, and you can just about hear the frown; ) Or them, now, I guess.
( She doesn't linger on the fact, just lapses into silence, and clears her throat before she starts talking. ) I remember, once when I was a kid. One of the shearers bought a kangaroo to the farm - not alive, though. It was roadkill. I couldn't tell you if... he hit it, or if he just found it. I don't know if that matters.
Anyway, he brings this dead 'roo over in the back of his ute, and hauls the thing off his trailer. I'm surprised he got it on there, to be honest. He and my dad, they took it over to one of the sheds and started butchering it. It was already dead, but they still went through all the steps they use for lamb or cattle if we're gonna be using them for food. Slice the throat, first. They took the whole thing apart, until there was just this... steaming carcass, and then they froze the meat for dog food, buried the guts so that the foxes couldn't get at them.
That's a bit what I feel like right now. Like I'm a carcass that someone picked up and dropped off here. It doesn't matter if I was alive or not when they found me. ( She laughs a bit, but it's a bitter sound. ) I'm here now, aren't I? Like all the things we did back home didn't make a bit of difference; either I've gone bush crazy and I'll be dead soon, or I'm already dead.
( And on that happy note, there's a pause, before her tone gets a little blunt, more harsh: ) My name's Ellie. Ellie Linton. I don't know if names mean much to the dead, but that's it. Or, Ellie Linton, Meister, I guess. Are things always so bloody weird and creepy around here?
So this place is Death City, huh? Interesting name. This gadget's pretty interesting, too. More fancy than anything I've ever seen. Homer'd probably have a fit if he knew I had this while he's still trying to keep that radio from crapping out on us. ( A brief pause, and you can just about hear the frown; ) Or them, now, I guess.
( She doesn't linger on the fact, just lapses into silence, and clears her throat before she starts talking. ) I remember, once when I was a kid. One of the shearers bought a kangaroo to the farm - not alive, though. It was roadkill. I couldn't tell you if... he hit it, or if he just found it. I don't know if that matters.
Anyway, he brings this dead 'roo over in the back of his ute, and hauls the thing off his trailer. I'm surprised he got it on there, to be honest. He and my dad, they took it over to one of the sheds and started butchering it. It was already dead, but they still went through all the steps they use for lamb or cattle if we're gonna be using them for food. Slice the throat, first. They took the whole thing apart, until there was just this... steaming carcass, and then they froze the meat for dog food, buried the guts so that the foxes couldn't get at them.
That's a bit what I feel like right now. Like I'm a carcass that someone picked up and dropped off here. It doesn't matter if I was alive or not when they found me. ( She laughs a bit, but it's a bitter sound. ) I'm here now, aren't I? Like all the things we did back home didn't make a bit of difference; either I've gone bush crazy and I'll be dead soon, or I'm already dead.
( And on that happy note, there's a pause, before her tone gets a little blunt, more harsh: ) My name's Ellie. Ellie Linton. I don't know if names mean much to the dead, but that's it. Or, Ellie Linton, Meister, I guess. Are things always so bloody weird and creepy around here?