The Fifteen Minute Novel is an attempt to take a single prompt and use the last sentence written each day as a start for the next day. This year I had several prompts circling around a similar story, so I have combined them. However, the story starts the same way each day, with the last line from the day before and a timer set for fifteen minutes. The hope is to end up with a complete, if very rough draft by the end of the year. Some stories are better than others, but I always learn a whole lot about my own writing when I do this so for me it is not only a nice way to work out a story, but it is a tool for helping my writing get better. And so, we continue this story for 2024 with…
Day 199: Sophie thought she was the last, but after she boarded it seemed they were waiting for one last person.
Sophie thought she was the last, but after she boarded it seemed they were waiting for one last person. They sat, some simply seeming to be relieved to have made it off of the plane. She looked at one man in the main tour group who had a relieved grin on his face and looked as though he was ready to melt into his seat. Caught looking one of the women leaned towards Sophie.
“Nervous flyer,” she said in a stage whisper. “He was white knuckling it for the past few hours.”
“Oh,” Sophie said nodding.
“I can hear you, Sylvia,” he said. He frowned without opening his eyes. She shrugged.
“Then you should have gotten over your fear of flying before the trip. You weren’t all that pleasant to sit next to and I am already dreading the flight back,” Sylvia told him.
“Please, don’t even mention the flight back,” He replied.
Sophie smiled and looked away. The last arrival reached them and was checked off the list. He boarded the shuttle and several members of the tour cheered, obviously knowing him.
“Sorry folks, delay with the plane I’m afraid.” He plunked down into a seat and the driver climbed behind the wheel. They were slow leaving the airport area due to the crush of traffic, but once free their driver seemed to think the airport shuttle was some sort of race car. Sophie fond herself gripping the seat as he took turns at far greater speeds than she would have thought the shuttle could go. The nervous flyer looked green and ihis companion Sylvia turned a strange gray shade. Sophie wonderd if they would manage to make it to the hotel without anyone throwing up.
Somehow, they made it safe and sound. When the shuttle pulled up to the hotel and stopped there was a united sigh of relief and a great rush to get off the shuttle on the off chance the driver felt like another round. Sophie left the shuttle and retrieved her bag. The tour group was ahead of her and she hung back as they all checked in.
They had a block of rooms and were soon cleared out. Finally it was Sophie’s turn at the counter. The clerk looked a little harried and smiled a somewhat wooden smile at her. As several of the guests in front of her asked a litany of questions about amenities, foods, tours and such, mostly in rapid fire English and usually several at a time, he had been hard pressed to keep up with them. Sophie had watched him answer one question, turn and answer another before turning back to answer still more. All while his fingers clicked over the keyboard checking people in.
She was impressed by him but clearly it took its toll. “You ar with the tour?” he asked, gesturing to the departing crowd.
Sophia shook her head. He seemed relieved. “No,” she replied. “Sophia Daniels checking in,” she said. He nodded and turned to the computer.
“Sophia,” he repeated drawing out the fee part of her name. She smiled, liking the pronunciation. He slipped into Italian as he asked if she wanted a view of the street or of the gardens and she was pleased that she was able to answer him in Italian. He nodded but didn’t seem displeased by her accent. She thought it a triumph of her language lessons and podcasts. He handed her the room key and relevant information.
Ten til Midnight 