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 81: The large pointed leaf succulent seemed to have trapped Michaelson against the wall.
The large pointed leaf succulent seemed to have trapped Michaelson against the wall. The plant was growing so fast it was creaking. Penelope gasped and as she did the plant shuttered to a stop, ceasing it’s extra growing. Michaelson took a breath, watching the plant. When it seemed it wasn’t going to grow any more, he let out a breath of relief.
He sidled slowly to the side, moving out of the way of the spiky ends of the plant. When small the tips of the succulent’s ‘leaves’ made it look prickly. Grown to such a large size they looked dangerous and dagger like.
Michaelson shifted around the closest of the leaves and then carefully climbed over the desk to get clear of the overgrown plant. Penelope scooted back out of the way to give him space, taking the guest chair with her. Michaelson made it over the desk, still keeping one eye carefully on the plant. He took a few deep breaths to compose himself and tugged his suit jacket straight.
“Right, well,” He said. For a moment he seemed at a loss. “It seems plants are going to be a specialty of yours. Can you tell me what you were feeling?”
Penelope swallowed hard. “Anger, a lot of anger,” she said. She studied the plant.
“That might explain the sharp points,” Michaelson said.
“Doesn’t the plant always have them?” Penelope asked. “It looked spiky before.”
It had pointed tips like small thorns, but they generally bend.”
Both of them studied the overgrown succulent. The points were longer than her hand and looked wickedly sharp.
“Maybe they are only soft when it is small?” Penelope offered.
“Perhaps,” Michaelson repolled. She had the feeling he was just humoring her. Penelope could see the broken shards of the small pot littering the floor. The roots clearly broke free.
“Is it attached to the carpet?” Penelope asked.
“Possibly,” Michaelson said.
“I think Mr. Fairchild will be upset,” Penelope said.
“More than likely,” Michaelson said. “But we do have someone who can take car of this. They will remove the plant and replace both carpet and desk if need be. It’s hardly the worst accident we’ve seen when magic flares.”
He shook his head. “Perhaps moving away from the plant might be a good idea,” Michaelson suggested. He gestured towards the door and as calm as his voice was, Penelope could see his hand was shaking slightly.
She nodded and they gathered up their paperwork. Penelope shoved her papers into her purse. Michaelson held back from leaving before her, but it looked like an effort so she hurried.
They stepped out of the bank manager’s office. Fairchild spotted them and walked quickly over.
“All done?” he asked.
Michaelson looked to Penelope. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting up front for a moment?” he said. Penelope nodded and went to the front of the bank to wait while Michaelson no doubt explained the situation. She was just as glad she didn’t have to hear him telling the bank manager how her temper caused his plant to take over his office.
As she waited, Penelope ignored the curious looks from the bank tellers and thought about her own roof top garden.
Ten til Midnight 