Freebie Mondays: The Wheel of Fortune (Prompt Novel Chapter 13)

For 2024, I have decided to devote my prompt writing time to a novel. The twist is that the novel plot will be generated entirely by the writing prompts I chose to use for the project – which were rolled randomly using my trusty dice and a few online prompt lists. You can find the Table of Contents here.

For Chapter 13, the prompt was: “two characters that had a fling discover they’re having a baby.”

Between the last chapter and this one, my computer died. After eating 2 high-quality solid state drives in 4 months, we determined something had to be gravely wrong with the system. The timing was bad because I have a lot of end of the year work to plow through and we hadn’t budgeted for a replacement. But these things happen when they happen.

This chapter was actually written on a computer my husband loaned me while we waited for my new computer to arrive. As a result, the stream (and me!) may have seemed a little more thrown together than usual – but at least I was able to continue writing!

I enjoyed this scene immensely. I didn’t entirely know how I wanted things to play out, but a vague and rudimentary road map of a plot has been revealing itself to me as I review the prompts that still need incorporated into the story. I’m excited to see things coming together. It may be too soon to call this experiment a success, but it certainly has been fun!

If you’d like to see this chapter come together, you can watch the VoD on Youtube!
. . .

Payphones were few and far between in most cities now that cell phones had taken over communication. But it was still possible to find one with enough diligence and digging.

It wasn’t the kind of search Ira ever imagined herself undertaking, not when she had a landline at home, another in the office, and one of the most expensive smart phones on the market to carry with her wherever she went. But this was what she had been reduced to – following the rules of some archaic order set out long before civilization cemented and spread across the planet.

It didn’t bother her that the phone stall was grimy and covered in graffiti. That was to be expected. No one respected something that had long since outlived its designated use. Still, she felt undignified when she yanked the sliding door open. Because she had been sent on this wild chase by someone who she had only met once – against her will – for the briefest period of time.

And she hadn’t asked for this. None of it. Not the witches on the trail behind her childhood home. Not the strange patterns she traced without thinking about it. Certainly not the strange world inside the computer that was real and not real at the same time.

Yet here she was, fulfilling the will of some ancient and powerful force. What other choice did she have given the circumstances?

The phone felt slimy when she lifted it from the hook. Probably it was just the collective oils of all the fingers that had touched it congealing in the heat and damp of the environment it occupied. But it caused her to wrinkle her nose as she lifted the receiver to her face and trapped it between her chin and her shoulder.

She inserted three coins into the slot. None was a quarter, but she was certain that the change had to add up to a particular number. That was even more important than the buttons she was about to press.

She heard a soft click, and her fingers flew across the keypad, entering the number she had determined would help her fulfill this task.

Nothing should have happened. It wasn’t like she dialed an actual phone number. There were far too many digits. Yet as she once again took the receiver in her hand and lifted it away from her shoulder, she heard the distinct sound of a connection, followed by three long rings.

She didn’t know who she expected to answer or what she expected them to say. If she had any other choice, she wouldn’t be here, in this dingy, dilapidated phone booth using a device that looked like it hadn’t been thought about for ten years, let alone touched.

Then another soft click sounded and breath filled her ears. She could almost feel it ghost along the flesh of her cheeks, as if the woman it belonged to were leaning close to speak.

“So,” she said, and Ira could hear amusement in her voice, “you have found us at last.”

“You make it sound as though I’ve always been looking,” Ira sneered. As if she hadn’t spent her entire life trying to forget that one terrifying meeting that had shattered one of her most treasured childhood activities.

“You might not have wanted to seek this path. You might even have tried to avoid it. But your soul has always been moving toward us, child. That makes this moment inevitable.”

It was more of the same things the old woman had spoken when she met her on the path as a child. Though it occurred to Ira that she didn’t know for certain this was the same crone. It might be the middle-aged woman taking the place of the old grandmother.

But it didn’t make sense if there was only ever one of each. Ira was middle-aged herself, and she had skipped the maiden portion of her service – unless she was about to be informed otherwise.

“I need help,” she declared, and the words burned her throat. She hadn’t asked anyone for help since she was fourteen. Since before she ran at top speed out of that damned forest near its stark, pale windmill. She accepted help when it was offered, her husband made sure of that. But she refused to ask.

Now she felt like she was begging, bending to her proverbial knees to plead with a force that cared little for her and her desires. A futile act if ever she saw one.

But what else could she do?

“Once the wheel is in motion, it cannot be stopped,” the old crone wheezed – exactly the answer Ira expected.

“So you set me on this path then abandon me to my fate?” she snarled and gripped the phone receiver so tightly it was a wonder it didn’t snap in half. The plastic was old and fragile, and her anger was hot and bright.

“Fate set you on this path, dearie. I had nothing to do with it. But you are never alone when you are one of us. That much I can reassure.”

She felt alone. She had never felt more alone than when she lifted that tiny stick to peer at the hateful message it provided for her. But the words felt like an olive branch – or at least, the extension of a gnarled hand in her direction – and she had no choice but to take it.

“What do I do?” she hissed and tried not to let the words become a sigh. She wanted to ask how she got rid of this problem, how she made it someone else’s to deal with. But she had a sinking suspicion she knew the answers to both of those questions.

“I cannot get rid of what fate has given you,” the crone whispered, and Ira wondered if she was talking about the power or the strange result that now resided within her. “But I can guide you through the use of your birthright.”

“We need to meet,” Ira insisted. Whatever was about to happen, she could not work on guesses and cryptic promises. She needed a face-to-face with someone who understood what she was dealing with.

“We will,” the crone promised. “You will know the time and place soon enough.”

Then the distinct beeping of a cut call filled her ears, and Ira growled. She wanted to slam the receiver against the phone it connected to. She wanted to smash it over and over until the thin plastic gave way. But she settled for gripping the top of the small box and screaming as loud as her voice could go.

She felt light-headed at the end of it, dizzy from the effort of her exertions. But she did not feel a lessening of the weight she carried with her to this place.

It was all going wrong. So badly wrong. And there seemed nothing she could do to halt the downward spiral.

She lingered for a moment, using the stolid strength of the phone and its anchor to hold her up. She felt for a moment as if she needed the whole of the world to press back against her in order to keep her upright.

Then she pushed away from the phone, slid through the small opening and didn’t bother to close the herky, jerky, stuck door. She fled back to her car and headed toward home.

She needed a long, hot shower. Then she had to get ready for yet another unpleasant meeting.

*   *   *

She was waiting for him when he pulled up to the small cafe. He expected to go inside and sit down with her, but she leapt toward his car the moment it slowed. Surprised, Alyial unlocked the door and Ira vaulted into the passenger seat.

“We need to go somewhere private,” she declared, and Alyial’s heart leapt into his throat.

“My place?” he suggested, but he knew even as he said the words, she would reject the offer.

Ira shook her head. Of course she wouldn’t want to go back there. It had been their haven in the computer simulation, the place they found some indescribable form of magic. But there was no way to recapture that lost sensation in the real world. Now it was simply a memory of a transgression.

Alyial said nothing. He simply pulled the car out of the parking lot and into traffic. They sat in silence as he drove. The radio droned in the background playing music Alyial couldn’t quite comprehend or connect with. At the moment, it was all just sound.

There were a million questions he wanted to ask, starting with the fact that she was married. He wanted to know why she hadn’t brought it up in the simulation and why she’d allowed him to carry things as far as they had gone without ever once mentioning her other connection.

Part of him wanted to yell, to know if she intended to disappear forever out of his life the moment they returned to the real world. How could she have led him on like that? Deceived him into believing they had a genuine connection? Did she just use him to pass the time?

But through all the hurt and the pain, he knew the answers to some of his questions. He knew there was no way the electric sizzle between them had been fake, just as there was no way to falsify the way they spoke to each other like two excited teenagers who have just discovered a common interest.

Maybe she had been as surprised by that connection as he was, and she simply allowed it to sweep her away without thinking about the connotations or consequences.

But they must have crossed her mind at some point – after if not before or during. And he desperately wanted to know why he found out about her marriage from someone else.

Ira fidgeted as they navigated the city’s traffic. She didn’t ask where they were going or how long he intended to drive. So he at least appeared to have her trust – not that it lessened the sting of recent revelations.

He wasn’t bold enough to take her all the way out of the city. That would require almost an hour of driving in either direction, and he assumed she would have to get back to her life – to her husband – sooner rather than later.

He did know a place they could go, however. An overlook on the outskirts of downtown, a turn off at the top of a high hill that would allow them to gaze down at a popular children’s park. Not a lot of people went there. The hill was generally regarded as a dead end. And since it didn’t serve as a short cut around commuter traffic, only the people who lived in that area made use of it.

It was lovely. A pair of tall trees sat atop the hill. Their trunks leaned toward each other so their branches intertwined, creating a cool canopy of shade. At some point in the distant past, a small cluster of picnic tables had been set beneath the dappled shade, and a few cheap grills lined the outer portion of the overlook. It was clear this place was used by families for gatherings and reunions. There were footsteps packed into the dust when Alyial parked his car and opened his door.

Ira didn’t wander toward the tables though. She went instead to one of the trunks and placed her palm against it. Then she leaned her head forward and gasped a deep breath of air into her lungs, as if she had been running for hours and needed to catch her breath.

Alyial followed her and hovered awkwardly nearby, uncertain what he was supposed to do. Ira was obviously disturbed about something. He could only hope it wasn’t his presence. But as eager as he was for answers, he didn’t think mobbing her was the best option for receiving them.

At last, he turned his head upward and gazed at the sky. The sun had reached its zenith several hours ago and begun its long descent toward the horizon, though it would still be a few hours before sunset lit the sky on fire. The air was crisp and cool up here, and the distant sound of children using the park below reached his ears.

He turned slowly to regard Ira, who stared into the distance like a haunted creature. Then he cleared his throat and said softly, “You’re married.”

It wasn’t a question. He didn’t have the heart to pitch his voice upward to make it so because he already knew the answer. Even if Nala hadn’t told him, Ira was wearing her wedding ring. It glinted from her left ring finger in the sunlight as if to mock him.

“Yes,” she admitted, not bothering to try to hide it. She turned her eyes toward him and they were both desperate and tortured. “I can’t tell you why I did what I did because I don’t know. We were there together in that place and I knew it wasn’t real. But also, at the same time, that it was. I wanted what I wanted and I accepted it without thinking about what the future would bring. It was unfair. And for that, I am sorry.”

But not about what we did. It was a balm, of sorts, to his wounded soul to realize she had no regrets. Though it didn’t really change anything.

“Were you planning to tell me?” he asked, his voice equally soft. He wanted to ask, what happens now? But he was afraid of her answer.

“It’s complicated,” Ira replied and choked on the words. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she only squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, as if she refused to grant herself the relief of looking away from his pained and pointed gaze.

“I’m pregnant,” she said – and it was not at all the words Alyial expected to flow from her lips.

His jaw fell open and his lips formed an o shape. For several long seconds, language eluded him. Then he rocked back on his feet and said, “Your husband’s, I assume?”

It was a foolish question, almost cutting when he paused to think about it. They hadn’t actually engaged in physical intercourse. In fact, Ira might be using that to justify her actions. His question must make it sound like he believed she was cheating with others too. And he really had no reason not to think that.

But before he could descend deeper into the connotations of his own words, Ira snorted bitterly and said, “You would think that.” Then she shook her head again. “I love my husband.” The words sounded pained when she said them. “I really and truly do. And I know I don’t want to lose him. But I am certain almost beyond shadow of doubt that this baby is not his.”

Again, shock tore through Alyial’s system. He could tell what she meant to imply from her tone of voice and the look she shot in his direction – but it was every kind of impossible.

“Wouldn’t it be too soon to tell?” Alyial insisted. He didn’t entirely understand everything about how this process worked, but he knew that pregnancy usually took some time to detect. It had only been a little over a week since they departed the simulation, and the time compression in there shouldn’t have affected anything out here, aside from their sense of time.

“I appreciate that you went in that direction instead of just screaming how,” Ira replied with a weary smile. “I have just as many questions as you do, Alyial. Believe me. I just had this feeling. I just knew something was different. So I took a test and it came back positive.”

“Those things can make mistakes,” Alyial replied. He wanted it to sound soothing, but he winced as soon as he said it, realizing he probably wasn’t helping.

“You’re right,” Ira replied, evidently taking his fumble in stride. “And there is the smallest, remotest chance that this child belongs to my husband. But I don’t think it’s his, Alyial. I can’t tell you how or why I know this, because it doesn’t make sense. But I’m fairly sure it’s yours.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “Ours.”

There was something sweet about the way she said it, as if she would have been happy to have his child and for them to raise it together, that she would have been happy to spend a lifetime with him having the same kinds of nerdy conversations they shared for that one blissful imaginary weekend – if not for the fact that she loved her husband.

“It’s impossible,” he said at last, speaking the statement that had to be choking both their brains. “We didn’t actually touch each other. There was no transfer of physical material.” And he would have known, because his co-workers would have told him.

“I know,” Ira replied, still undaunted by his reactions. “But all the same, I am fairly sure I am having your baby.”

Even if Alyial ignored the fact that reality dictated Ira’s claim was impossible, he wasn’t sure how to feel. Had this been inside the simulation, or had he not awakened to discover that Ira was married, he would have jumped for joy. He wanted to hug her and squeal with delight. He hadn’t ever thought about having a child or starting a family, really, but he would be more than happy to embrace the possibility now that it stood in front of him.

Hell, if she wasn’t already wearing a wedding ring, he would have dropped to one knee and offered his life to her right this moment.

But he didn’t know how Ira felt about this. And she had already made it clear that, however she felt about Alyial and their tryst, she loved her husband.

So all he managed to say was, “I’ll do whatever you want. Support you in any way you think is best. Step back if you want me to.” Though if this was his child, at some point he was going to have to be more involved than phone calls and well-wishes.

Ira sighed. The air took so long to finish exited her lungs, it almost seemed as if the sigh might go on forever. Then she inhaled, and Alyial braced for the hammer blow of whatever her words were going to be.

Before she had a chance to speak, however, her phone rang. She pulled the small device from her pocket and glared at the screen. But then she cursed and answered.

“Del?” she demanded, and Alyial bit his lip to resist making even the smallest sound.

The caller was Ira’s husband.

“No, wait, slow down,” Ira insisted after a few moments. “What are you saying? I don’t understand!”

Another brief pause passed and Ira exclaimed, “What do you mean it’s about Wendell?”

Her voice was high-pitched by the end, almost a plaintive scream. But she fell silent and listened to whatever message her husband delivered. Then she tapped her phone screen to disable the call and said, “I need to go. I’m pretty sure my nephew just came back from the dead.”