Troubled Tides: Analysa and Evan's Hiccupping Journey

Evan's breath was ragged and heavy as he crouched beside her, the door of their tiny wooden home slamming shut behind him. He felt the crimson red of his face tingle as he watched Analysa, his wife of almost three years, lay upon their straw mattress. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her face white and drawn, a thin sheen of sweat covering every inch of her body.

He had rushed over when she had sent him a message that was short and to the point: “HICCUPS!” No please or thank you. The first time he had seen that word in a written sentence was not even a year ago. He didn't know what it meant, only that it must be serious if she used it.

He knelt beside her bed and reached out to touch her forehead gently, but drew back from the heat there. His eyes looked around the room for something to wet with; some water would do wonders for her condition. But then he remembered the last time he had tried to help her with this problem. She had been so angry with him for bringing in that old glass vial filled with his piss that she hadn't spoken to him for three days straight.

Evan sighed and ran his hand through his dark brown hair, feeling knots of seaweed caked inside from all the tinkering he'd done in the engine room today. A mess like this wasn't going to win him any brownie points with her now, but there was no way he could just sit by and watch her suffer like this anymore. There had to be something he could do to make things better for her.

His mind raced as he tried desperately to think of some way to prove himself useful again after so many failures in the past. As if on cue, he heard a gurgling sound coming from deep inside of Analysa's stomach somewhere. It sounded like a seaman emptying his guts into the bilge on a stormy night - except much louder, sickly wetter and more persistent than any sound Evan had heard before in his life.

Analysa's eyes shot open as she looked at him fearfully; her hands flew up to cover her mouth as though she could somehow prevent the guttural sounds from escaping between them. Her cheeks flushed a bright crimson red as her eyes darted around wildly seeking whatever threat might be lurking nearby waiting to attack at any moment. Evan could see tears begin to well up in those blue orbs staring down at him from above once again - which couldn't possibly have been good for anything.

Why did this always happen? Why did she get so embarrassed whenever she got sick? Maybe if they didn't live so far beneath the surface of the ocean there might be someone else they could call on for help; someone who hadn't seen them naked or heard them screaming or crying before. Someone who didn't know how easily they could be pushed over the edge into hysterics by any number of things: boogers hanging from noses, bodily functions or even just an unexpected touch from their beloved husband who loved them too much not to want to lend a helping hand whenever possible...