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 121: James grabbed one of the towels from the rack and dried his hands.
James grabbed one of the towels from the rack and dried his hands. He hung the now damp towel back on the rack and left the bathroom. The white board looked as it did before. No new insights hit him. Nothing new occurred. However looking at it made him twitchy. He knew Tucker saw something he didn’t but he couldn’t see what that was.
‘And staring at it isn’t helping,’ He decided. James turned away from the board, but also realized there was nothing else for him to do. He had no books with him. There was no television. He had his phone so he could read articles, watch videos or play games. He thought about looking up a few things, like RealNet, but decided he would probably not find out much more information than he already had with just a general search.
He wondered if he was supposed to just sit in this room until someone came and fetched him. He then wondered what would happen if he went wandering in search of someone who could give him explanations. He only saw Tucker and Morris, both of whom would be logical targets for him to try to find. He just didn’t know if there was anyone else in the building or not who might object to him wandering around.
‘Someone has to be taking care of Morris,’ James rationalized.
He looked at the door, starting at it as though it would tell him whether it wanted to be opened or not. “What are they going to do, shoot me?” He asked himself. He strode forward and grasped the door handle. As his skin touched metal he realized that there was the possibility that they could. James paused and tried to decide if he was more trouble to them alive or dead. He shook the thought off as situational paranoia. “If they wanted me dead all they had to do was stop protecting me. They don’t have to actively kill me. Besides they are using me as bait.” James tilted his head. “Dead bait,” he reminded himself.
He tried to decide if there was more risk of him being shot if everyone already thought he was dead. He finally shook his head and let it go. The metal doorknob warmed as he stood and mentally debated with himself.
“I’ll just go see Morris,” James decided. He opened the door and looked into the hall. It was devoid of gunmen. It was actually devoid of anyone. Trying not to feel like a sneak thief, James stepped into the hall. He left the door open and counted doors as he walked back to what he thought was Morris’ room. The door was closed and looked nearly identical to every other door in the hallway, but he thought he had his count right. James knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Someone said. It sounded like Morris, but through the muffled door, James wasn’t certain. He opened the door anyway and was relieved to find Morris sitting up in the bed.
Ten til Midnight 