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 87: She used the little remaining water to wash her face and then dressed for the day.
She used the little remaining water to wash her face and then dressed for the day. Nerves fluttered in her belly as she went down to breakfast. She wondered what would happen and what questions the others would ask of her. She gathered that it was unusual to be called and then to return to the table from the looks that she was given when she reappeared after being taken to speak with the robbed ones.
When Anya reached the dining hall she was relieved to be handed a bowl of porridge rather than a drink. While the drink was filling as she felt full after consuming it, there was something deeply unsatisfying about consuming only the one cup at meal time. It was a pleasure to be faced with more solid fare.
‘Even if it is only as solid as porridge.’ She thought.
Anya took her seat at the table as usual. The younger woman looked dejected and stirred her bowl half-heartedly.
“You can’t expect to be chose immediately,” the older woman consoled her. “it was five entire years that your mother was here before she was chosen for her position,” she said.
The thought seemed to brighten the younger woman. “Five years?” she asked.
“Yes,” the answer came. “There is time yet.”
As Anya sat the younger woman shook off her thoughts and looked to Anya. “You were chosen, but you came back.”
“”I’m to stay here for a while,” Anya said.
“Like she did?” the younger woman asked, gesturing to the older one with her spoon.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Anya said. “They were undecided.”
The older woman nodded. “It’s the lace,” she said.
“Lace?” Anya asked.
“Not many make it here. They have plenty of ordinary seamstresses but few who make the delicate bits that bring in the funds and prestige. And the pattern work on your lace is quite distinctive. “
Anya frowned. “I was following the pattern they gave me,” she said.
“They are good at seeing skills,” she said with a shrug. “Perhaps they saw your skills. There might not be a steady place for a lace maker at the moment but they know they can use your skills here.”
The younger woman nodded. “So they asked you to stay until a place could be found,” she concluded. “That makes sense. “ She frowned into her porridge. “I don’t have those kind of skills,” she said sounding morose.
“But you’ll have the kind of skills everyone needs if you keep working at it,” Anya said. “Already you have improved since I first arrived.”
“See I told you,” the older woman said.
Anya let them bicker good naturedly as she began eating her porridge. She was relieved that a logical explanation had been so easy for them to find. ‘Because I’m not mentioning magic and a lord who wants to be kind hunting me,’ she decided.
“We’ll be leaving after we have finished breaking our fast,” the older woman told Anya. “Hopefully we will see you when we return.”
“That would be nice,” Anya replied.
“Will they be moving you to the more year round quarters?” she asked.
“I believe so,” Anya said. “It was mentioned.”
The woman nodded. “It figures. Autumn is ending and soon it will begin to get cold. Those that remain they pull into a tighter group to conserve the heating.”
Anya nodded at the logic even as her insides shivered at the words. ‘Soon it will begin to get cold?’ she thought. The thought was not an encouraging one. Already the air was as cold as it would be in the winter in Tyrin. ‘And I’m wearing the warmest clothes I have.’
Ten til Midnight 