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 43: She pulled the volume from the shelf.
She pulled the volume from the shelf. The 1825 journal slipped from the shelf easily as though eager to be read. While the library had a table and chair that seemed right for research as well as a comfortable looking reading chair, Penelope decided not to read in the library.
“Too tempting to skim and go for another book,’ she decided.
Penelope went back to the living room and put the book on the coffee table near the comfortable chair she used earlier. Figuring she might as well make herself a snack, she went into the kitchen and poured a glass of milk and picked up the pack of cookies she picked up at the store. Knowing that if she took the entire pack with her to eat while reading then she would eat the entire pack, Penelope took out a plate from the cabinet. She opened the pack of cookies and set three on the plate. She thought of the car accident and added two more before she put the bag away.
Penelope took her plate and her glass of milk over to the chair and set them both down on the table by the journal. Before she began to read, she picked up one of the cookies, dunked it in the milk and ate it. Thus fortified, she dusted off the crumbs and picked up the journal.
Penelope settled into the chair and opened the cover. The journal proved to be that of a woman named Amelia. It started on May 20th, 1824. Amelia was an engaging writer even though it was clear that she was writing just for herself and never really anticipated anyone reading it.
‘I’ll use the pretty volumes Papa declared acceptable,’ Amelia wrote. ‘But I can’t see anyone consulting it the way they consult the journals in the library. Those were written by elders who know what they are talking about and write about deep and important matters. I’m just me and I can’t really think of anything important to say.”
Penelope smiled, ate another cookie and continued to read. Amelia was, at the time she was writing, fourteen years old. She talked about her lessons and the dances she went to as well as the people that inhabited her world. Penelope found that Amelia liked sneaking down to the kitchen and helping cook bake because their cook, Mrs. Patterson simply gave basic instruction and left Amelia to work. There were no weighty questions about her magic or marriage prospects.
Mrs. Petterson seemed to realize Amelia just needed to be actively engaged in something while her thoughts sorted themselves out. It was something Penelope could relate to. Mrs. Lucas taught her to make cookies for much the same reason when she was younger.
It was interesting reading along with Amelia’s descriptions of people as well. They seemed to come alive. She knew which boy in Amelia’s circle delighted in tormenting those weaker then themselves and which ones had a good sense of humor.
Ten til Midnight 