Started the morning breaking up a cat fight between two rival feral cats who both want to claim my backyard as their turf. I had the garden hose, so I won. I suppose. It is a temporary victory, I am sure. It was an interesting way to start the day though. So now, we have the morning writing prompt. Are you ready? Then let’s go.
Not the cleanest story start but I kind of like it. Especially as he jumped to being poisoned rather than the flu. Not usually my kind of story but sometimes it is fun to color outside the lines.
Thursday, June 15th: He felt a rumbling in his guts.
He felt a rumbling in his guts. It was not a good rumbling. He looked around knowing a bathroom was needed immediately. He spotted the sign and raced for the doors. He slammed through the swinging doors. The bathroom was empty and he spotted the open door of a cubicle. He raced for it, hands fumbling with his belt as he moved.
He made it in time, barely. His innards gave a loud groan and released as soon as he was in position. He felt as though his body was purging everything within and wondered if his intestines would take the opportunity to rebel and join the mass exodus, leaving his body an empty shell.
He flushed several times to prevent any form of calamities. To his relief none of his organs seemed to take the invitation to leave and finally it was over. He sighed with relief. Cleaned himself up and gave one final flush. He stood, refastened his trousers and moved to the sink to wash his hands.
In the mirror he could see that sweat was beaded on his upper lip and at his hairline. His skin was a sickly gray. He turned on the water to wash his hands and noticed they were shaking slightly. Then, he heard another low moan issuing from deep within. It was higher this time, in his belly and he realized this time, it was coming up instead of going down. He turned and went into the nearest stall, a different one and fresher smelling than the one he just left.
He made it in time here too as his stomach heaved evacuating anything that hadn’t made it through his internal system to evacuate below. Eventually this too ended. His eyes were watering as he wiped off his mouth, flushed and went back to the sink. He tidied himself washing, hands and face before scooping up handfuls of water, first to rinse out his mouth and then to swallow greedily.
As he did so, the shaking started to let up and his mind began to work instead of letting his body get on with necessities. He hadn’t been feeling poorly recently. He walked through his day, analyzing what he ate and who he came in contact with.
‘Poison,’ was his final conclusion. He wondered if he had purged enough of it to keep him alive. Thinking of his reaction, he went into his wallet and took out the small sealed bag. There were two dark charcoal tablets. There were things other than charcoal in them, he was certain, but as eating them tasted like gnawing on a campfire he didn’t bother learning the other ingredients.
He knew a doctor who could help him, but was it safe to go? He thought over those he made contact with that day and shook his head. Standard options were out. He would have to go more off script. A name floated to the surface of his mind. Catherine. It had been a while and they hadn’t parted on the best of terms, but he suspected that if he showed up in need, she would still help him, even if she kicked him out right after. He just had to make it to her.
Ten til Midnight 