Ready for Chapter 3 of The Wish Room?
Yeah, me too, but first, just a reminder: there’s only a few days left to pick up a copy of my book The Wish Room and get access to all of the free giveaways. If you missed the announcement, make sure to click here to see all kinds of cool giveaways you can access.
Alright. It’s time. Chapter three of The Wish Room.
So Harold is your favorite character, right?
That night they made love and Harold did everything he could think of to make sure his wife felt satisfied. At the end he came inside her as usual: Nora hated condoms. Falling onto the bed beside her in a sweaty mass he panted, “You had a point earlier.”
“Did I?” Nora asked, her breasts rising and falling with each deep breath.
“Yeah. You’re right. I do need to get in shape.”
“Mmm,” Nora stretched beside her husband and he watched her, taking in her lithe, sweaty body.
“I need to get healthy. I shouldn’t be this winded.”
“Oh?” Nora slipped her hand down between his legs and squeezed his testicles. “And who says I don’t want you tired after sex?”
“Jesus, Nora. What’s gotten into you?” Harold smiled: he couldn’t even remember the last time his wife responded to him like this.
Harold chuckled. Why couldn’t she always be like this? Why couldn’t she always make him feel like a man? Maybe he just needed to get in shape and reclaim his title as man of the house.
He would walk in the morning. That was a perfect time for walking. It would be cool and he would hardly sweat at all.
Harold closed his eyes and thought of nothing more than how good Nora’s hand felt between his legs.
Nora closed her own eyes as Harold’s soft snores filled the room.
Nora jerked awake several hours later, breathing hard and drenched in sweat. She slipped her feet out from beneath the covers and placed them on the floor. The cool carpet felt good against the burning soles of her feet.
Nora stood and then fell back onto the bed. Her knees felt weak. She took a deep breath and tried to stand again. This time her legs held her. She was thirsty and hot, and her bladder felt overly full.
Nora walked to the bathroom, one foot in front of the other, her knees still shaky. She pushed open the door and reached around in the dark until she found the bathroom counter. Edging along the surface, she found the toilet, popped the lid, and sat down.
Nora’s bladder opened and she felt uncomfortable relief fill her as the hot fluids began to fill the bowl beneath her.
Nora put her elbows on her knees and smiled as she felt air releasing from her vagina. Harold had really put on a show earlier. She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone down on her.
Feeling the cold hardness of the seat when she leaned back, Nora closed her eyes in the darkness of the bathroom and thought about Harold.
Something that sounded like a muffled giggle came from her left and Nora jerked away from the seat, standing up and feeling a drop or two of urine run down her thighs. She backed into the counter and slid along it until she got to the door. Taking a heavy breath, Nora flipped on the light.
The brightness instantly blinded her and Nora’s eyes closed on their own accord. Blinking hard and rubbing her eyes, Nora tried to restore her vision.
The muffled giggle came again; it sounded like a small boy’s. Nora squinted. The sound seemed to be coming from behind the navy colored shower curtain.
Why couldn’t Harry have bought a clear one, or even one of those translucent ones?
Nora took a step towards the curtain, her hand out, every nerve and muscle in her body coiled and ready to spring her in the opposite direction.
She took another step and stopped.
Was this really the best idea? Should she really be doing this without Harry?
She looked through the open door and into the bedroom where the light from the bathroom pooled on the bed.
“Harry,” she tried to call, but nothing came out.
“Harry,” she tried again.
Her voice wasn’t working.
Nora took another step. Her hand brushed the shower curtain, and then, without a thought to the consequences, she breathed in deep, ripped the curtain wide open, and stared.
Not a thing.
The bathtub sat there with its white porcelain and its shiny, white tiles separated by white grout. The showerhead—one of those expensive kinds the size and shape of a colander—hung enormous over the tub.
Nora felt a chill worm down her spine as she looked at the tiny window that made up the upper foot of the tile wall.
It was open.
Probably Harry opened it sometime during the night. He always liked to tell her that “opening a window is cheaper than running the A/C, Nor.”
The window being open, she probably heard a small animal in the backyard, not a muffled giggle like she thought she had.
So nothing was wrong, she told herself.
Just a shower and tub.
Nora reached out to slide the window shut and put one foot into the tub. She jerked to a stop and moaned. The porcelain was warm beneath her foot.
Her bowels wrenched and she cried out.
Pulling her foot out of the tub, she spun and sat back down on the toilet. All thoughts of giggles and warmth fled before her need to avoid soiling herself.
Her bowels loosened and she felt the heat of her movement pass through her. The dripping slowed, and as a new wave issued forth, she cried out again.
It burned, but didn’t seem to be close to over.
Nora cried out once more and this time she felt her vagina clench down and release like she was in the throes of an orgasm. She felt something deep in her stomach shift.
She tried to call out to Harold, but couldn’t find her voice as another gripping contraction seized her vagina and midsection.
Tears slipped down her face in well-worn tracks as the contractions sped up.
Something was coming.
The contractions sped and she felt the lips of her vagina open wide, delivering something into the toilet with a splash.
Nora moaned as she heard it moving in the toilet below her.
She spread her legs and looked between them in the toilet bowl.
It was too dark to see anything.
She heard another splash.
What if it touched her?
The thought came unbidden, but caused Nora to rocket up off the seat. She cried out again as she felt something rip inside of her.
Spinning around and looking down into the toilet, something brushed the back of her leg. She knew what it was instantly.
The umbilical cord wrapped around her son’s throat came out of the bowl and snaked around the back of her leg and up into her.
Joshua floated on his back in the toilet, small and frail and blue, surrounded by her floating shit. One of his tiny hands rested on his stomach, the other was raised above his head like a child that wanted to ask a question of a teacher.
Or of a mother.
Like he wanted to ask her why she’d done it again, why she’d killed her son.
Why had she let him hang choking from her loins waste deep in her shit?
Nora brought a hand to her mouth, catching the sob, and then bending at the hips, she reached into the bowl and pulled her baby boy out of her mess. Nora held Joshua to her breast, ignoring the smell of feces and trying to guide her son to her nipple as she brushed flecks of waste from his face.
Tears fell down her cheeks as she rocked her son in her arms.
She’d killed him again.
Nora heard the muffled giggle again, and turned to see the back of a pale, wrinkled leg that looked fishlike in the light.
It was bent at the ankle and right below the knee at an unnatural angle, making an S. The leg had tiny, tight curls of shiny black hair. Dragging up the tile of the shower and out the window into the backyard, the yellow toenails on the grey foot clicked every time they hit a line of white grout.
“Nora. Nora baby, wake up.”
Nora jerked from Harold’s arms and ran to the bathroom, falling to her knees in front of the toilet and throwing up. Her eyes widened as she remembered the dream and this toilet.
The light clicked on behind her and she threw open her eyes, forcing herself to stare through the fumes of her bile and the dark, partially digested leaves from dinner floating in the water.
“Honey, are you okay?” Harold’s voice came from behind her.
Nora ignored him and plunged her hands into the vomit and toilet water. She ran her hands along the smooth porcelain on the inside of the bowl, feeling, feeling, feeling for her Joshua.
Nora heard Harry say her name and then felt his hand on the back of her neck. The hand pulled at her, gently at first, but when she didn’t stop her search in the fetid water it became more forceful.
“Just let me finish checking, okay?”
“Checking for what though? Did you lose your ring or something?”
“No. I lost…”
Nora broke off, unable to fill in the enormous blank that loomed before her.
“Lost what?” Harold said.
“I-I’m not sure.”
She could feel Harry looking strangely at her from behind.
“I think I’m just tired and stressed. Could you give me a second?”
“Honey, I just want to—”
Nora hadn’t meant to cut him off. She hadn’t meant to speak to him in that horrible voice. He was only trying to take care of her, trying to understand, but how could he? How could he understand what it was like to have your body turn traitor to your offspring, to have your body reject the one thing you wanted most in the world?
Harold had lost something too that day, but he hadn’t felt it like she had. Bearing the child was her part of the deal, her responsibility. He only had to knock her up and then his part was finished. She had to carry Joshua for nine months, falling in love with her baby boy and then failing at the crucial moment.
Harold would never understand her sense of loss.
“Let me know if I can do anything, okay?” Harold took a step back from her.
“Thank you. And Harry?”
She heard the note of strain in his voice. She’d hurt him.
“Oh. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”
“It’s not okay. I’m sorry I snapped at you like that,” she said, disgusted with herself.
“Alright. I know. I’m going to grab a glass of water from downstairs.”
“Thank you,” she said as she heard him walking back through the bedroom and out of it.
Nora sighed and shook her hands off into the bowl.
What a mess.
That’s it for today. Keep being awesome, and don’t forget: you have to buy the book by March 22nd in order get access to:
Greed – The Machine: A Card Game for Backstabbers
You’ll get two different pdfs of this card game (color and greyscale) and an instruction sheet.
A behind-the-scenes pdf that contains all 16 covers I made for The Wish Room before deciding on the current cover along with my thinking for cutting all the covers I didn’t use.
Until next time,