aBIGsheep
07-22-2008, 12:48 AM
So I'm writing a new story. Its about a poor boy who's had a really bad accident with a toilet. Now he refuses to take a dump! Whats the bad experience you ask? A hand tried to pull him him down into the toilet and screwed up. Now that hand is waiting for him.
Would you guys care to read the begging I've made?
He wouldn't touch it. Wouldn't even step in a same room with one, actually. Absolutely feared them.
Nicholas' Mother was worried. He'd recently refused to use the toilet. But oddly enough, his complete and total rejection of the thing only concocted an odd fascination with it. She'd witnessed on more than one account how he'd grip the edges of the bathroom door frames and tensely look inside. As soon as he had sneaked an eye full, he'd turn and dart away from the bathroom as fast as he could. Sometimes he'd stand outside in the hallway and watch the crapper for hours on end. Like he was waiting for something.
His mother could only sigh. While other kids were shooting BB guns at their dogs Nicholas was standing guard outside of his bathroom.
Now, Nicholas couldn't not poop. He'd go weeks on end without visiting the can. When he did finally go he still refused to use the bathroom. His parents tried to force him onto the toilet, but he kicked and clawed so ruthlessly that his parents eventually gave up. When Nicholas escaped his parents grasp they found him defecating into his mother's flower pots. Although this wasn't a rational solution by any stretch, little Nicholas' parents were relieved. They'd noticed the boy was looking a little more paler and acting a little more sluggish than he usually was. They brought him to doctors and physicians, but by some odd genetic grace, Nicholas had quite the effective digestive system. All of them disclosed to his parents' relief that their son wasn't getting sick from his large mass of unshat s***. But rather, oddly enough, it was stress that was slowly compromising the boy's health.
That night, poor Nicholas was having a nightmare. He was dreaming he was on the toilet. The bathroom was the same way it was a few weeks ago. Before he began to act so strangely. It was normal enough, simple and quaint. The boy's pants were sitting down by his ankles as he rested his bottom on the marble throne. As the dream continued, Nicholas looked up. He heard something. It was a rumbling sound. He didn't know where it started, but it began somewhere in the walls.
Then he heard a thud.
Then another.
And then another.
And then it was working its way towards him. No, the word working doesn't fit it all. Whatever it was, it was fighting. He could practically feel it thrashing its way through the pipe works. All the while, the dazed youngster simply sat on the toilet. In his lucid state, he didn't have the choice of running away. His butt cheeks were glued. Nicholas looked down between his legs.
The water was still. The rumbling had stopped.
Nicholas sat there terrified. His head was drawn back in fear and even in his dream, he could feel his heart racing.
A lonely bubble of air floated to the top of the water's surface and popped. Nicholas could see it slowly crawling from the bottom of the toilet. He could see a tip of a murky fingernail slowly pull itself upwards. Nicholas could only watch. The skin was decaying and molded bits of flesh hung loosely against the bone. Nicholas closed his eyes and he told himself to wake up. It wasn't working. It felt slimy against his skin. Like old rubber smothered in cooking oil. Nicholas tried to pry the fingers off, but he could feel the hand pulling him down deeper and deeper.
Nicholas woke up. He was greeted with the warm, reassuring faces of his parents. He lunged for them and buried his face into their chests, sobbing profusely. He felt so relieved to be out of the bathroom.
"Now son, I know you don't like the bathroom very much," his father said.
"But this is for your own good." Nicholas pulled his head away from his parents. He looked around franticly. His pants were down and he was seated on the toilet. He tried to say something, but his throat felt paralyzed from fright. He pointed and cried, but nothing worked. His parents just thought he was acting out.
"You gotta get over this silly fear of yours." His mother said.
But Nicholas knew better. He looked up into the walls wide eyed and terrified. He could hear it thrashing.
Its done! Anything you guys would like to add or change? Any praise? I'd love to hear from you.
Would you guys care to read the begging I've made?
He wouldn't touch it. Wouldn't even step in a same room with one, actually. Absolutely feared them.
Nicholas' Mother was worried. He'd recently refused to use the toilet. But oddly enough, his complete and total rejection of the thing only concocted an odd fascination with it. She'd witnessed on more than one account how he'd grip the edges of the bathroom door frames and tensely look inside. As soon as he had sneaked an eye full, he'd turn and dart away from the bathroom as fast as he could. Sometimes he'd stand outside in the hallway and watch the crapper for hours on end. Like he was waiting for something.
His mother could only sigh. While other kids were shooting BB guns at their dogs Nicholas was standing guard outside of his bathroom.
Now, Nicholas couldn't not poop. He'd go weeks on end without visiting the can. When he did finally go he still refused to use the bathroom. His parents tried to force him onto the toilet, but he kicked and clawed so ruthlessly that his parents eventually gave up. When Nicholas escaped his parents grasp they found him defecating into his mother's flower pots. Although this wasn't a rational solution by any stretch, little Nicholas' parents were relieved. They'd noticed the boy was looking a little more paler and acting a little more sluggish than he usually was. They brought him to doctors and physicians, but by some odd genetic grace, Nicholas had quite the effective digestive system. All of them disclosed to his parents' relief that their son wasn't getting sick from his large mass of unshat s***. But rather, oddly enough, it was stress that was slowly compromising the boy's health.
That night, poor Nicholas was having a nightmare. He was dreaming he was on the toilet. The bathroom was the same way it was a few weeks ago. Before he began to act so strangely. It was normal enough, simple and quaint. The boy's pants were sitting down by his ankles as he rested his bottom on the marble throne. As the dream continued, Nicholas looked up. He heard something. It was a rumbling sound. He didn't know where it started, but it began somewhere in the walls.
Then he heard a thud.
Then another.
And then another.
And then it was working its way towards him. No, the word working doesn't fit it all. Whatever it was, it was fighting. He could practically feel it thrashing its way through the pipe works. All the while, the dazed youngster simply sat on the toilet. In his lucid state, he didn't have the choice of running away. His butt cheeks were glued. Nicholas looked down between his legs.
The water was still. The rumbling had stopped.
Nicholas sat there terrified. His head was drawn back in fear and even in his dream, he could feel his heart racing.
A lonely bubble of air floated to the top of the water's surface and popped. Nicholas could see it slowly crawling from the bottom of the toilet. He could see a tip of a murky fingernail slowly pull itself upwards. Nicholas could only watch. The skin was decaying and molded bits of flesh hung loosely against the bone. Nicholas closed his eyes and he told himself to wake up. It wasn't working. It felt slimy against his skin. Like old rubber smothered in cooking oil. Nicholas tried to pry the fingers off, but he could feel the hand pulling him down deeper and deeper.
Nicholas woke up. He was greeted with the warm, reassuring faces of his parents. He lunged for them and buried his face into their chests, sobbing profusely. He felt so relieved to be out of the bathroom.
"Now son, I know you don't like the bathroom very much," his father said.
"But this is for your own good." Nicholas pulled his head away from his parents. He looked around franticly. His pants were down and he was seated on the toilet. He tried to say something, but his throat felt paralyzed from fright. He pointed and cried, but nothing worked. His parents just thought he was acting out.
"You gotta get over this silly fear of yours." His mother said.
But Nicholas knew better. He looked up into the walls wide eyed and terrified. He could hear it thrashing.
Its done! Anything you guys would like to add or change? Any praise? I'd love to hear from you.