Sickness. Flash Fiction.

Lauren heaved as her stomach cramped, expelling the contents of her stomach. She was sitting on the floor, head hung over the toilet, spitting out the remains of the vomit from her mouth. She coughed, then grabbed some tissue and wiped at her mouth and then cleared her eyes. She flushed the toilet and took a deep breath, hoping it was over. Her stomach clenched again.

a few minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of the bath, breathing shallowly. She had already rinsed her mouth out with water and it seemed that the vomiting had finally ended. She cradled her arms around her stomach, still feeling faint twinges of cramping. Lauren stood and glanced at herself in the sink, she was pale, dreadfully so. Ugh. It was happening more frequently. Doctors were stumped with the last one helpfully suggesting that perhaps she was accidentally giving herself food poisoning. It was hard to see how you could do that when all you ate were soft foods that were precooked. She had even tried keeping a food diary to make sure there was no specific food causing it and there was nothing so far. It was gross, but it at least it was only vomiting. She left the bathroom, hoping that that was it for the day. Usually it only happened once, occasionally twice. She went to the kitchen and picked up a glass of water, she had to keep herself hydrated. There was food sitting on the counter but she didn’t feel like eating, not now. Her stomach gave a faint twinge of warning. She made it to the sink before she started throwing up again. Thin, mucousy water filled the sink. She gripped the edge of the counter tightly, her eyes closed.
When it was finally over she dropped into a chair, breathing heavily. She looked at the glass of water, picked it up, then set it down again. Her stomach wasn’t settled yet, she didn’t want to start throwing up again. She rested her head onto her arms and closed her eyes. She just had to deal with it a little longer, they’d figure out what the hell it was sooner or later, they had to.

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About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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