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 112: Penelope nodded, a lot of the explanations making sense.
Penelope nodded, a lot of the explanations making sense. ‘Good to one is not good to another.’
Penelope was actually relieved by the explanation. She somehow expected that if the book advocated a cut and dried good and evil, she would be less likely to trust it. The explanation and book did however make it far more complicated than just dangling a weighted string over a piece of paper.
She smiled. ‘Apparently magic relies a lot on logic as well.’ She would have to think through the details of exactly what she needed to ask of the spell if she was going to get the answers she wanted.
“Figuring out your questions before asking them seems like a good idea anyway,’ she thought. Once she figured out exactly what she wanted to know she could formulate her question and uses the spell to get an answer.
Penelope leaned back in the chair letting her head rest against the cushion even as her hands gripped the book. She wanted to know if Mrs. Merriweather could be trusted. She needed to know if she played any role in her mother’s death or if she was indeed the friend she claimed. Penelope also wanted to know if it was a good idea to talk to her about what was going on and to ask her for training advice.
‘Although those might be different questions,’ Penelope realized.
Mrs. Merriweather could have been her mother’s friend and could have had nothing to do with her death, but still not be the person Penelope should go to for advice. She might have her own agenda that she didn’t have when Penelope’s mother was alive. Her circumstances could have changed.
‘Or she could just be bad with this sort of thing.’
Penelope sat up. “Maybe a series of questions, each for a different thing?” She asked the empty room. “I still have to ask about Agent Michaelson, the layer and possibly even the neighbors as well.”
Penelope sighed and looked back down at the book. She had a lot of questions. Even paired down she would need to go through the ritual repeatedly to ask them all. “So maybe I had better pair them down.”
She finished reading the ritual and decided that she once again needed to move as she thought. Penelope left the library and diverted to her bedroom to pick up her notebook and pen before going to the living room. She placed her notebook and pen on the edge of the kitchen island where it bordered the living room. She wrote Questions at the top of a blank page. She jotted down the top ones in her mind, mostly relating to Mrs. Merriweather and Agent Michaelson. Then she put the pen down and began to pace.
This pacing lacked the frenetic quality of her earlier pacing through the living room. If she left the house, she knew she would go to the running trail in the park. At the moment being alone on a wooded path seemed like a bad idea. Her thoughts flashed to her dreams.
“A bad idea for many reasons,” she amended. “Although I don’t think the lake at the park is going to try to lure me in by making the sidewalk and sand too hot to stand on.”
Penelope paused her pacing and added dreams to her list on the page. She didn’t know if her questioning spell would help with that, but it was a question she had and needed some sort of answer to. At the moment she was already a little worried about falling asleep.
‘Maybe I’ll just not walk to the lank next time the dream occurs,’ she decided.
Penelope shook it aside for later and then added multiple abilities to the list. She thought about the note someone tossed her way.
Ten til Midnight 