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 86: The reigns were cut and the animals allowed to run off somewhere.
The reigns were cut and the animals allowed to run off somewhere. Kasca found herself absurdly grateful the animals hadn’t died in the traces. She was certain, given the lack of anything moving anywhere that they probably died elsewhere. Not seeing them still attached to the cart gave her some illusion, a small hope that something lived somewhere else.
‘It also means less stinking and rotting bits for me to climb over,’ she thought providing practicality the sentiment. Kasca stared at the abandoned collection cart for a long time. They featured large in her memories. When she worked as a runner they and the collectors maning them were to be avoided at all costs. To be seen was to be reported.
Everyone in town knew when the carts were coming their way and there was always a scramble. How much could they hold back without inciting punishment. How much would the collectors leave them? How much did they need to ensure their own survival? The time before the collectors arrival was fraught. Hard questions were asked and official documents had to be forged as well as extra supplies hidden.
She thought of the notes she found in the Overlord’s rooms. The people he paid in town to spy and report. She wondered how much of what they held back from the collectors was reported. Kasca took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She tried to push the memories aside. To stifle the panic that the thought of the collectors always brought to town.
‘I need the coin to survive once I leave the island,’ she told herself. ‘It is either take from the collectors or rob the dead.’ She thought of the men from the sanctuary going house to house to take what they wanted. She knew she couldn’t bring herself to do that if she had an alternative. ‘This is the alternative.’
Kasca moved forward, her shield tight around her. She knew the contamination was a real risk, despite the modified cure she took. She saw no reason to be reckless. If pressed she would have to admit the fear of being seen near the collectors’ wagon was at that moment a bigger fear than contamination.
She climbed into the wagon. The smell of rotten food was strong. Much of it abated after the winter but thee were piles of slimy produce rotted to lumps of petrification. Kasca avoided them as much as possible and reached the collection box. In most cases goods, whether agricultural or not, were collected rather than coin, but in the wealthier towns, coin was gathered. Kasca took the coin box and retreated from the wagon. On her way she knocked into a barrel of grain.
It fell over and tore through the canvas covering over the wagon. It fell to the ground outside with a splintering smash. Kasca retreated from the wagon hastily putting distance between her and it. Her heart was pounding wildly as she slunk into the trees to hide. The fear of being noticed by the collectors wagon was strong within her.
She didn’t run far. Once away there was a desire to see if anyone came. To see if there were still others around to notice the theft. She huddled in the shadows and waited. No one came. No one sounded an alarm. She looked back to the wagon as her heart slowed it’s pounding.
Ten til Midnight 