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 120: Anya’s belly rumbled loudly.
Anya’s belly rumbled loudly. The sound of it reminded her that for tonight she was here and that she needed to remain here, at least long enough to be fed and to make plans. Without the heat of the orb, Anya felt the chill of the room more keenly. She turned away from the orb and swiftly moved back through the spaces, hoping to make it back to the musician’s gallery before Marta arrived.
Anya made it, just, stepping into the center of the gallery as she heard the key in the lock. Marta pushed the door open and peered inside.
To her credit, Marta looked relieved to se her. “Oh, you are safe,” she said.
“Despite Lord Mathis?” Anya replied.
“There was a bit of a …mix up there,” Marta replied. Anya nodded.
She had to give Marta credit for loyalty to the Matron. “I saw,” Anya replied.
“Yes, well e is gone now,” she replied. “And you must be starving. As well as chilled to the bone. Anya shivered in reaction to her words and Marta clucked her tongue, more than willing to leave Lord Mathis and the Matron behind to focus on other things. As once Anya’s shivering started, she seemed unable to stop it, she let herself be led out of the gallery, through the corridors and down to the kitchens. Even though the fires had for the most part been banked for the night now that dinner was complete, the stones of this room seemed to radiate heat as though they absorbed it while the kitchen was in use and now slowly radiated it back out. Anya gratefully soaked in the radiated heat as she was led to one of the tables. It was clearly a working table, used more for meal preparation than eating. The woman who brought her a bowl of stew and bread was one she saw in the dining hall and as there was only the one disused bench with the table, Anya suspected those that worked in the kitchen still ate with everyone else in the dining hall.
There was silence as Anya slowly filled her belly. The food not only filled her, but warmed her from the inside out. When her meal was complete, she slowly rose, hesitant to leave the warmth of the kitchen. The kitchen however was not as warm as it was when she entered. The last of the kitchen staff left and there was only a small lantern making the space feel less friendly. Marta stayed while she ate, but lingers in the shadows, moving about silently and leaving Anya to dine.
With the food gone, Marta told her to leave her things where they were. Anya nodded. She was unsure what to say to Marta, her earlier wariness returning. What did she really know of these people?
As Anya stood she noticed Marta carried a small tea kettle and a jar of some sort. “If you could grab the pitcher please?” Marta said. She inclined her head towards an earthenware pitcher of water.
Anya picked it up. It felt cool to the touch. She lifted it and followed Marta out of the kitchen.
Ten til Midnight 