To Have and to Hold
by Stephanie Hutton
Wordcount: 1042
Genre: Fantasy
Synopsis:
An infertile woman swallows her husband in rage and fulfils her dream of pregnancy and dominance.
First 500 words:
Another failed IVF cycle, third time unlucky. Harriet stared blankly at the velvet-flocked walls of her lounge, grinding her teeth as she exhaled for longer than the average woman could. She smoothed down the folds of her large shapeless dress. The cruel side effects of treatment had magnified with each cycle, as had her body-mass. Bloated and sweating, her acne-ridden face peeked out of pristine nets awaiting the return of her husband.
Throughout the years of treatment, Harriet nurtured her loathing of the ceaseless stream of smug pregnancy-flaunters and pram-pushers, who were clearly missing the point of procreation. Staring pointedly at her Insurance Times in the local garden centre café, she kept secret count of the topics these vacuous vestibules discussed: makes of travel systems, feeding dilemmas and competitive comparisons of bump size or baby development. She barely heard mention of husbands or the gift of creating together. She suspected some of these women did not even have a husband.
The clock chimed five times, Ray was due home within twenty-two minutes. The journey from the bus stop to her front door would take Harriet sixteen minutes, but Ray was not confident in gait and his short legs meant that each journey they walked together was rather like Harriet taking a small nervous terrier for a walk. His pointy keen face would look up to her frequently, seeking reassurance that he still belonged. Although Harriet despised weakness, she was strangely comforted by Ray’s adoration and the certainty this promised. She planned to explain the facts clearly and lay out their saving plan for the next cycle of IVF after dinner so as not to alter the order of things too much.
At six o’clock the distant chimes of the mantelpiece clock brought Harriet back to the present moment. Confused, she sought to calm her rising panic and work out exactly where she was and why she felt so battered and bruised. Heaving herself up from the dining room floor, her centre of balance was off so that she had to reach out a shaky hand to the chair leg and steady herself. Slowly pulling herself up, she swayed on her feet, limbs weak and throat screaming in pain. Clutching at the smooth, reassuring table she blew out slow breaths and pictured herself made of steel and muscle. Her instinct to knock back a steadying dram of whiskey for the first time in sixteen years was only quelled by the sudden strange sensations of nausea and impending bowel movements.
Harriet made her way to the living room leaning against the wall with one arm out in front of her as if it was pitch dark rather than the height of summer. Once she had heaved her body down into her familiar worn sofa, she allowed two questions to come into focus: what had happened to her and where was Ray?
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