The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day: 97: He started to call out to whoever knocked but remembered he bolted the door.
He started to call out to whoever knocked, but remembered he bolted the door. James slid off of the bed and padded to the door in his socked feet. The thought that this could be someone else sent to kill him skittered through his mind and his hand paused mid air before touching the doorknob.
‘Potentially sent to kill me,’ James self-corrected. ‘Morris wasn’t certain I was the target. He was only guessing.’
There was no peep hole into the hall so James unlocked it, held his book like a weapon lifting it high over his head and stepped to the side as he opened it.
He tried not to be framed in the open doorway while not being trapped behind the door. It wasn’t much of a plan. Luckily it wasn’t a plan necessary to his survival. Tucker stood in the doorway. He stared blank faced at James. His eyes scanned the positioning and the upraised book.
“Skittish is natural,” Tucker said. He stayed where he was giving James time to view him as non-threatening. James felt heat creep to his cheeks as he lowered the book.
“Ready for some breakfast?” Tucker asked. He kept his tone light and pleasant, just a friend stopping by to see if he wanted to grab a bite to eat. James belly rumbled and Tucker smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He tilted his head back towards the corridor. “Food’s this way.”
Tucker turned and walked off. James let out a heavy sigh and turned. He set his book on the bed, pulled on his shoes and followed Tucker down the hall.
Tucker had moved on without him, but paused outside of the doorway leading to food. James appreciated the gesture as all of the doors in the corridor looked identical. He wasn’t sure if it was for some security measure or if it was just part of the design. The building looked as though it was popped out of a generic mold with an architect giving it only a passing glance as the plans slid past him. James was sure there were hundreds if not thousands of buildings like this scattered around.
‘Which is also probably the point,’ He thought as he followed Tucker into the room.
This room was identical to his bedroom except that instead of a bed there was a round table with tour chairs. The table looked like a cousin to the dinette set in his apartment.
‘Except that mine is square.’
This table had the requisite four chairs pulled up to it and was pulled high with fast food bags. The scent of the food wafted towards him, still warm enough to be delicious and somehow oddly, generically comforting. This food could be picked up anywhere in the country and be exactly the same. It was a strange element of stability in an unsteady world.
Tucker walked to the table and pulled out one of the chairs. “I didn’t know what you liked and I know you missed dinner so I figured you’d be hungry. I’m sure whatever you don’t eat, I will.”
James nodded and moved to take his own chair across from Tucker. They each opened the bag nearest them and began taking items out of the bag. James found a chicken biscuit and decided it was a good place to start. Tucker chose something with egg in it. Before biting into his first selection, Ticker reached behind the bags and picked up two coffees, handing one to James.
“Cream and sugar are in one of the bags,” Tucker said.
Ten til Midnight 