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 137: ‘She is still my best place for answers.’
‘She is still my best place for answers.’ Anya decided she would spend the next few days watching Marta to see if there was any pattern to her schedule, any time where there was a better chance of finding her alone.
‘And I can also work on lining up my questions,’ Anya thought. Right now they were a jumble of things that mostly blended into the should I stay or go category. ‘and most of that hinges on the Matron.’
Anya decided that she would spend more time with the orb than she usually did for the next few days, rather than reading in her rooms. That two presented some difficulty. The room with the orb was nearer to the inhabited sections of the House, but it wasn’t near enough to feel any heat in the room. While touching it, Anya drew in warmth through her hands, but the rest of her grew chilly quickly. It was an odd sensation to have her hands so warm, but her feet feeling like blocks of ice.
‘Anya looked over her things. Marta brought warmer clothing and a few extra blankets. Anya decided that she would layer her clothing when going to the orb. ‘And possibly take one of the blankets to stand on. She had the feeling that if her boots had a cushion of warmth between them and the stone there was the possibility that her feet wouldn’t grow as cold as quickly.
It was as much of a plan as she could come up with. Yawning, Anya decided she would eat the bread and cheese Marta sent with the last supplies and then retire early. ‘Perhaps catching Marta before breakfast might be a good idea.
Anya ate her small meal and washed it down with the last of the tea. The bread was a little stale but otherwise there was nothing to complain of. ‘Well fed, warm and safe,’ she told herself as she slipped out of her clothes and into her night dress. There were worse things.
Sleep came easily and she slept deeply with no dreams or interruptions. It had been the way she spelt since moving into the interior of the House. Used to strange dreams intruding, this felt more as though the world were waiting. As though her dreams acknowledges the winter and were sleeping beneath the snow, waiting for the spring thaw to sprout from the ground.
In the morning, she woke early, washed and dressed, adding the extra layers and folding up a blanket to take with her. Thus prepared, Anya traveled to the room of the orb. As always it was waiting for her. Anya arranged the blanket in a thick square on the floor in front of it. She made it large enough to be stable for standing, but compact enough to put as many layers between her feet and the stone as she could. She stepped onto it and found a stable balance. Satisfied it wouldn’t slide or tilt her unexpectedly, Anya turned her attention to the orb.
She placed her hands on it and felt the welcoming warmth seep into her fingertips. It was coming quicker each time she used it, as though it was enjoying being used.
‘Or was waking up from a long slumber,’ she decided.
Ten til Midnight 