Morning all and welcome to the Fifteen Minute Novel. Here I take the start of a story idea and work on it for fifteen minutes a day. I started with an old writing prompt that interested me, cleaned it up a bit to fit the basic outline of the story I want to write and then set aside fifteen minutes each week day to see it grow. Each morning’s writing starts with the last sentence of the day before. And so now we have the story of Kasca…
Day 12: Here and there she could see the bits of what might have once been furniture.
Here and there she could see the bits of what might have once been furniture. She saw a squared off edge here or a carved bit there. It looked as though anything that would burn was taken for the fire. Kasca edged closer, a bad feeling in her belly. She froze as she saw something that wasn’t wooden, wasn’t carved.
Bone.
A skull seemed to grin at her from the shadows and the ash. Once she picked out one bit of bone her eyes danced over the pile picking out more. There were bones everywhere. The smaller bones seemed to have burned to ash or tumbled away from the whole, but the longer bones, the skulls especially were easy to pick out.
Kasca stumbled back a step and leaned against the nearest building as her eyes continued to skitter around the remains. It was a giant funeral pyre.
‘In the center of town.’ She thought.
The wind seemed to moan through the empty streets. She looked away from the pile and down the street. On a few of the doors she saw the symbol for death. She frowned and stepped away from the funeral pyre, moving towards the doors to get a better look. The symbol was scattered on a few doors. At first it was the same symbol she remembered, this time it was accompanied by the sign for sickness. Such signs let everyone know that the dwelling needed to be cleansed before it could be occupied. There were no signs of cleansing. Kasca didn’t open the door, but continued down the street.
The signs continued but they changed as she walked. They were no longer the carefully scribed signs healers ritualistically put on the doors after a death. They were sloppy, quickly painted and in many cases held only the symbol of illness.
Kasca turned away and decided it was time to leave Neva. She learned all she was going to here and it was time to move on. She decided that even if it was cowardice, she didn’t want to see the full destruction of Neva in daylight. She passed by the funeral pyre and paused. She could not speak with her shielding in place and in this place of illness and death dare not remove her protection. She traced the symbol for restful sleep and safe passage in the air with her finger before turning away and walking back through the market gate.
Even with the town behind her, Kasca did not lower her protections. She felt too exposed in the open as she moved away from the palisaded walls and looked out over the farming district. Kasca took a deep breath hoping to wash the feel of death from her lugs. With the shield in place, it didn’t help much.
She counted on leaving her message with those in Neva, but now she couldn’t as there was no one in Neva. She would need to travel on. The village was built on a rise and had a good view of the land below.
Ten til Midnight 