For those just tuning in, this challenge is about taking a story idea from bare bones idea into a fully fledged story by writing consistently every week day for fifteen minutes. The sentence I end with on one day, is the sentence I start with on the following. Part one was Bob’s story and has nothing whatsoever to do with the story below. Part Two follows a character named Penelope. I have a few basic sentences to act as road marks on her journey. I am loosely calling that an outline. We will see where she ends up by the time the story is done. For now, we start Part two of the 2025 Fifteen Minute Writing Challenge.
Day 6: The call ended and Yasmine looked to Penelope.
The call ended and Yasmine looked to Penelope. “They are ready for you,” she said. Her smile wa once more professional grade, the dimple gone, her face smooth. “I’ll buzz you in, just go down the hall to the first door on the right.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said. Doubting the receptionist would tell her any details, even if she knew them, Penlope walked to the indicated door and when she heard the electronic buzz, pushed it open. She stepped into a corridor.
While the lobby was quiet, there was the echo that came from shows on tile and the mechanical whirring of the various equipment the building used. There was an elevator in motion, HVAC systems circulating air, and even the muted sounds of the traffic on the street. Once the door clicked shut behind her all of that was gone. The floor was covered in footstep muffling industrial carpet and even though there were doors lining the hallway, they were all closed, keeping any noise produced there inside.
The corridor was lined with doors on the left but on the right it was a blank wall. Looking down the wall she saw there was indeed a door on the right. She would just have to walk past eight doors on the left to reach it. Penelope started walking. None of the doors she passed opened and none of them had any windows in the doors to let her know what was going on behind them.
‘Maybe they ae all broom closets,’ she thought.
Penelope reached the right door, and wondered if she should knock. She was expected so she didn’t think she should. ‘But the door is closed.’
She settled for a light tap to serve as a warning as she turned the knob with her other hand. The door opened and Penelope found herself stepping into a conference room. There was a long table And two men were present. One had two stacks of papers in front of him and the other had a small white box. Both looked up at her arrival. Both stood and the man in front of the papers smiled and walked over while the other held back.
“Ms. Douglas,” he said. He held his hand out to shake even as he walked forward. “I’m Mr. Alvis,”
Penelope smiled back. The man was easily her father’s age with gray creeping from his temples to the rest of his dark hair. That dark hair was flecked with gray as well, not in streaks but more like someone flicked a paint brush at him. He had deep lines carved at the sides of his eyes and bracketing his mouth. They deepened as he smiled.
“Nice to meet you,” Penelope said as she shook his hand. She wasn’t entirely certain what else to say.
“I know this is highly irregular but there is one more test to perform and then we can get started. That is why Mike is here.”
Alvis turned and gestured to the other man. He was blonde, lanky and only a few years older than she was.
“I’ll need your non dominant hand,” Mike said by way of introduction.
“My non dominant hand,” Penelope repeated, already raising her left hand. Mike took the hand swabbed her index finger with a wet cloth and even as the astringent scent of alcohol hit her nose, he lifted the small device he held in his other hand and pricked her finger with it.
“Oww,” she said automatically. She saw the blood pulled into the small device.
Ten til Midnight 