The fifteen minute novel writing experiment is a attempt to write a complete (and very rough) draft of a novel by writing for fifteen minutes each day. I have taken a timed writing from one of the daily prompts done in 2021, cleaned it up a little and used it as my jumping off point into a story. Each day I will take the last line of the story written the day before and use it as my sentence starter and write for fifteen minutes, growing the story as the year progresses.
Day 5: Anya thought it lowered her chances of being chosen.
Anya thought it lowered her chances of being chosen. There were so many options, surely many of them would be better choices than her. Still Anya stood in line with the others. When she looked up and saw the wealthy stranger from before across the square, she knew that she would be chosen.
In the darkness below the tower, Anya stubbed her toe on one of the uneven stones. The pain of her half numbed toe hitting the stone jarring her from her thoughts. The tunnel hadn’t gotten any wider but the water had frown slightly more deep. Before it reached her knees. Now the water was above her knees, reaching an inch higher than it had before.
‘Still not too bad,’ Anya thought.
The tunnel seemed endless. Anya kept walking knowing her two options were to continue or go back to remain in her cage until …something. Anya frowned in the darkness. From the guards comments she suspected something was going to happen or arrive or something at some point and that she was not to be kept alone locked in the tower forever. There was some sort of plan in mind. It was just that no one bothered to explain it to her. Her involvement was not needed. She was merely a package to be moved from one point to another.
‘I really shouldn’t be surprised,’ Anya thought. ‘It was how they thought of all of us from the beginning.
As Anya lined up with the others a thin reedy man dressed in fine velvets and silks stepped forward. He carried a piece of paper in one hand. Anya remembered being almost mesmerized by how shiny his boots seemed as he walked down the length of them studying the available children of Tyrin. Periodically he would stop to consult his paper.
“Three lads for stable work,” he said to himself. The man stared at the row of them letting his gaze sweep over them dispassionately. He pointed to three boys in succession. “You, you and you. Go with Lord Mathis he will pay your parents and send someone to see you settled for travel.”
The three boys indicated shuffled off, their fathers following like shadows. The man consulted his page again. Another two boys were chosen for kitchen work. When they reached the maids section, Anya could feel her father tense behind her. Anya was unsurprised when she was told to take her place with the others chosen.
She walked with the others to Lord Mathis, the man she had seen studying her at the well that morning. Her father received his fifty cros, squeezed her shoulder in farewell and was gone. She followed the others to the caravan of guards, courtiers and servants. There was not enough space for them all to travel together and so they were split into smaller groups. On that first night she was placed with two of the girls in a wagon with three older ladies. One of them was a cook who used the burn cream she habitually carried to soothe the pain of Anya’s burned fingers.
Ten til Midnight 