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 156: Penelope blinked in surprise.
Penelope blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?” she said. Penelope swallowed hard and felt her pulse race. The older man looked non threatening. He was just looking over her plants. ‘But he mentioned Jerome.’
Penelope tried not to narrow her eyes in suspicion.
“Jerome, my dear,” the man repeated. He looked at her and smiled. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“I don’t know any Jerome,” she said.
“Well you wouldn’t,” the man said. “His luck ran out before you were born.”
“Oh?” Penelope said. She took a slow step back away from the man.
“He was a thief,” the man said. “He stole something from me.”
“And you are?” Penelope asked. She looked around hoping to catch sight of Michaelson. The older man hadn’t offered her any violence and his tone was perfectly pleasant, but she still felt somehow threatened.
“How inconsiderate of me,” he said. “Peter Sinclair.” The man inclined his head.
“Nice to meet you,” Penelope said automatically not meaning a word of it.
“It’s not nice to lie,” he said. “Tsk tsk tsk. I know you hoped you would never meet me, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know who you are and have never heard of you before,” Penelope said.
The man looked surprised. His pleasant expression dropped into a frown that looked more confused than angry. “But you have to know.”
“No, I’m sorry I have no idea who you are.” Penelope looked around. Not only did she not see Agent Michaelson, but all of the other customers and staff seemed to have departed for another section of the greenhouse. There wasn’t another soul in sight. It was just her and Peter Sinclair.
“How could Jerome not tell you?”
Penelope frowned. “I don’t know a Jerome and didn’t you say he died before I was born?”
He blinked as though processing the information. “Then your mother would have told you. I’m certain Jerome passed it on to her.”
“My mother died when I was young and she never mentioned you.”
“Oh yes, that was a miscalculation. I hadn’t realized she had you at the time and thought with her line ended I would have been able to search the house.”
Penelope felt as though her body turned to ice. “Miscalculation,” she repeated.
“With the brakes,” Peter clarified. He chewed his lip as he thought about it.
“You cut my mother’s break line?” Penelope half said, half asked.
“It was necessary,” Peter said waving his hand in the air as though dispelling smoke. He looked at her.
Ten til Midnight 