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 123: “I’ll work on that,” James told him.
“I’ll work on that,” James told him.
It seemed however there was little more he could work on that night. Morris gave him directions to to a small waiting room lounge area that had magazines three years out of date and a television as well as the directions to his room. It was a clear dismissal and James took it. He wandered down the hall to the waiting area.
Like every other space in this building it was decorated in abandoned hospital chic. The walls were cinder block, this time painted an off white color, or at least faded to such. The furniture was mass produced, designed to be both sturdy and cheap. The chairs were the same uncomfortable waiting room chairs. There were two of them. They were placed in front of the television. Between the television and the chairs was a low coffee table. It held an arranged fan of magazines.
James looked at the magazines. They were an odd collection, the newest one issues three years ago. Some featured home improvement, other slight news articles. There were a surprising number of teen themed magazines. Having no desire to check out whoever was the current, or possibly not so current teen heartthrob of the moment, James opted for the television.
He spotted the remote on one of the seat cushions, picked it up and sat down in the chair. He clicked the television on and began to slowly click through all of the channels, wanting to see what his options were before settling.
There were a surprising number of channels which he considered a blessing as his mind wasn’t really in the mood to focus on actually watching anything. The slow flipping of channels lent him the illusion that he was actually trying to do something, but his brain felt a bit scattered to pay too much attention to anything.
His family thought he was dead and he had to convince them to believe it. Ernie was really a criminal named Thomas Grant. Carson was dead because of possible mistaken identity. He was leaving his apartment but keeping his job. He had to come up with a list of plausible charities his family wouldn’t check up on. He had to search what little he brought with him for something that would pass as keepsakes.
James shook his head. He was told to remove anything that would tie him to his former life. He wasn’t certain he had any keepsakes left. ‘And it would look strange for me to send a keepsake to my step-brothers.’
James snorted. It would be more appropriate to leave them a letter telling them they were finally on their own. ‘But they were before I supposedly died. Except that they knew I could come back because they asked for…something.’
James frowned. He remembered Carson saying his family contacted them asking for something. At the time he blew it off, more than willing to let them deal with trouble on their own.
“What was it they wanted then?” he asked himself.
Ten til Midnight 