Story time!

[AustralMoonBear]

I enjoy writing but haven't done any for a long time. I also tend to anthropomorphise parts of my life and put villainous faces on things I'm struggling with. Therefore I present to you Guts Chapter 1

Hope you enjoy and thank you for indulging me :-)

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I’ve been curled up in bed for hours, wishing that I’d either die or get better. I’d been feeling wonderful for weeks; cleaned up my diet, stopped eating garbage, exercised more. Then this gastro hit.

My fetal position tightens again as my stomach gurgles and clenches, every time I think it might be letting up the next wave comes back, worse than before. Maybe I’m coming down with a fever as well, because the gurgles are starting to sound more like grumbles, bordering on words.

Heaving again I grab my bucket, I could swear that there was nothing left to come up, I’ve been at this for hours and haven't eaten for a day. Surely I can’t just keep hurling. This time, though, feels different. Like something bigger than my stomach is trying to force it’s way up my throat, like an arm is reaching out, pounding it’s way up my mouth and...

Hurghubububububle.

Instead of the thin steam of bile or the chunks of semi-digested food what comes out is... Well, it’s not right. In fact it’s so wrong that I struggle to describe it, to even wrap my brain around it. But what comes out of my throat...

Have you ever seen the movie Fight Club? The scene where they go bin diving to collect fat for soap making? The big plastic bag of liposuctioned fat catching on the wire fence and tearing? The slightly pink, congealed fat pouring out and splattering on the ground?

That’s what it looks like. That’s what comes out of my throat, more of it than I could believe, filling the bucket and pouring onto the floor.

When it’s finally done I feel like I’ve brought up my entire insides, like there is nothing else left in me. As I sink back onto the pillow the stuff actually starts to move, to pull together, to rise up from the bucket. The room fades to black and I loose consciousness.

***

“Ay. Ay youseâ€.

The thing is sitting on my stomach. A squat, bulbous creature made up of a disgusting, sticky, off-white, slightly pink gunk. Its legs are pulled up to its bulging gut, its too long arms wrapped around its nobly knees.

“Ohhhh yous is awake.†Its piggy little eyes squint from within folds and its mouth opens and closes with wet plopping noises, strands of the pink goo clinging and separating.

“Uhhh,†I catch sight of the empty bucket lying on the floor and the glistening trail leading from it onto my bed. “Uhhhhh†my voice shakes and I stumble over my own tougue.

“Oh, yous is a real articulate type. I can tell.†Its voice sounds like a bad cartoon gangster, Al Capon with a mouthfull of chewing gum. “Yus can calls me Guts. Is what I is.â€

“Guts.†I manage to force the word past my limp lips.

“Yeah, your guts. Least was your guts, till you gots all healthy and diety. Excersise and healthy eating. No booze. No sugar. Is enough to make a gut sick.â€

“But... My guts? I mean how can you? What did I?†I stammer off into silence.

“Oh youse shouldn’t worry your pretty little head ‘bout dat. I been wit you since youse was little. Birt’day cake. Bags of chippies. Lollies. I been in all of dem tings.â€

“You were in me?â€

The thing gives a wet, blubbery sigh. “Yeah, in ya. But you don’t wants me no mores. Got yourself some motivations. Dedications. Well I’m done wit it I tells ya. Youse is gonna eat more sugar and more fat and just plain more and I’m gonna make sure it happens.

I stare at the thing in disbelief. Here, in grotesque, blubbery, bubbling form is my guts. My fat.

“You can’t make me eat more.â€

“Says youse.†Guts leaves a menacing pause “But we’ll see. Anyway, see yous round, kiddo.â€

The thing stands, and for the first time I notice just how much it weighs, how much pressure it’s placing on my body. It turns and climbs down from the bed in a series of tortuously slow, clambering steps. As it leaves the room I can see it has a tail, dragging along the floor, leaving a glistening snail trail of fat.

I drop my head back on my pillow, exhausted, and darkness washes over me again.

I’ve been curled up in bed for hours, wishing that I’d either die or get better. I’d been feeling wonderful for weeks; cleaned up my diet, stopped eating garbage, exercised more. Then this gastro hit.

My fetal position tightens again as my stomach gurgles and clenches, every time I think it might be letting up the next wave comes back, worse than before. Maybe I’m coming down with a fever as well, because the gurgles are starting to sound more like grumbles, bordering on words.

Heaving again I grab my bucket, I could swear that there was nothing left to come up, I’ve been at this for hours and haven't eaten for a day. Surely I can’t just keep hurling. This time, though, feels different. Like something bigger than my stomach is trying to force it’s way up my throat, like an arm is reaching out, pounding it’s way up my mouth and...

Hurghubububububle.

Instead of the thin steam of bile or the chunks of semi-digested food what comes out is... Well, it’s not right. In fact it’s so wrong that I struggle to describe it, to even wrap my brain around it. But what comes out of my throat...

Have you ever seen the movie Fight Club? The scene where they go bin diving to collect fat for soap making? The big plastic bag of liposuctioned fat catching on the wire fence and tearing? The slightly pink, congealed fat pouring out and splattering on the ground?

That’s what it looks like. That’s what comes out of my throat, more of it than I could believe, filling the bucket and pouring onto the floor.

When it’s finally done I feel like I’ve brought up my entire insides, like there is nothing else left in me. As I sink back onto the pillow the stuff actually starts to move, to pull together, to rise up from the bucket. The room fades to black and I loose consciousness.

***

“Ay. Ay youseâ€.

The thing is sitting on my stomach. A squat, bulbous creature made up of a disgusting, sticky, off-white, slightly pink gunk. Its legs are pulled up to its bulging gut, its too long arms wrapped around its nobly knees.

“Ohhhh yous is awake.†Its piggy little eyes squint from within folds and its mouth opens and closes with wet plopping noises, strands of the pink goo clinging and separating.

“Uhhh,†I catch sight of the empty bucket lying on the floor and the glistening trail leading from it onto my bed. “Uhhhhh†my voice shakes and I stumble over my own tougue.

“Oh, yous is a real articulate type. I can tell.†Its voice sounds like a bad cartoon gangster, Al Capon with a mouthfull of chewing gum. “Yus can calls me Guts. Is what I is.â€

“Guts.†I manage to force the word past my limp lips.

“Yeah, your guts. Least was your guts, till you gots all healthy and diety. Excersise and healthy eating. No booze. No sugar. Is enough to make a gut sick.â€

“But... My guts? I mean how can you? What did I?†I stammer off into silence.

“Oh youse shouldn’t worry your pretty little head ‘bout dat. I been wit you since youse was little. Birt’day cake. Bags of chippies. Lollies. I been in all of dem tings.â€

“You were in me?â€

The thing gives a wet, blubbery sigh. “Yeah, in ya. But you don’t wants me no mores. Got yourself some motivations. Dedications. Well I’m done wit it I tells ya. Youse is gonna eat more sugar and more fat and just plain more and I’m gonna make sure it happens.

I stare at the thing in disbelief. Here, in grotesque, blubbery, bubbling form is my guts. My fat.

“You can’t make me eat more.â€

“Says youse.†Guts leaves a menacing pause “But we’ll see. Anyway, see yous round, kiddo.â€

The thing stands, and for the first time I notice just how much it weighs, how much pressure it’s placing on my body. It turns and climbs down from the bed in a series of tortuously slow, clambering steps. As it leaves the room I can see it has a tail, dragging along the floor, leaving a glistening snail trail of fat.

I drop my head back on my pillow, exhausted, and darkness washes over me again.

[GreenEyesBright]

Love it! Keep writing cause I'd like to hear about the various battles between you and Guts.

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