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 169: “I know,” the matron said noting Marta’s surprise. “It is unusual.”
“I know,” the matron said noting Marta’s surprise. “It is unusual.”
“Such dreams are never commonplace and even more rare when they come out of season,” Marta said.
“For me they are exceedingly rare. They have happened only twice. I had such dreams when I was led to the Star as a young girl and when I was set to be named Matron. Both times it was impossible to believe these dreams were regular dreams.”
“I have been touched only once by such dreams, matron,” Marta replied. “I tried telling myself that it was a dream but I never quite believed it. I wanted to, and tried. But I knew it was not.”
The matron nodded. For a long moment the two sat and sipped their tea in silence. Anya wondered if they would continue or if this was all she would learn. She was confused about the talk of dreams that weren’t dreams and for a moment thoughts of the statue flitted through her mind. As the matron once again began to speak, Anya set her own dreams to the side.
“I fear I have been quite foolish,” the Matron said. “I have let my pride interfere with my duties.”
Marta remained silent and continued lifting her cup to her mouth, even though Anya could see that she was not really drinking.
“You do not dispute this?” the matron asked. The question was sharp.
Marta lowered her cup and held it clasped in both hands as though drawing warmth from the remaining brew. “It is not my place to say. You are the one tasked with the care of the House of the Star and only you know the Star’s will in guiding it.”
The Matron snorted, a distinctly unladylike sound that made Anya smile. “A very diplomatic response,” the matron said.
The matron took a deep breath. “I have been chided for my actions.” She said.
“Not by me,” Marta said. “even if I do disagree with them on occasion.”
“Yes you are good at keeping your own council unless you are called upon to share it.”
“And have you called me here to share it?” Marta asked.
This time it was the Matron who paused, taking a deep sip of her own drink to give herself time to word her response.
“The House of the Star exists to help those who need it. Whether it is an escape from an intolerable position, a realization of their own self worth, a place where they can work towards a more positive future or even training in a rare or occasionally troublesome ability. For the most part we aid women and young girls but have on occasion broadened our scope,” the matron began.
“To assist others in their time of need is a worthy occupation,” Marta said when the Matron fell silent.
“When the House of the Star was moved here, this move was allowed because our role was expanded. We could use this space to teach those who came to us with the Star’s own abilities, but there was a cost.”
Ten til Midnight 