And so our November National Novel writing Month for 2026 begins. To reach the 50K word goal by November 30th, try for 1667 words per day. Below is my Day one selections. As always, Happy Writing.
Day 1: November 1
Amerite Stosa flailed wildly as the alarm went off. His arm landed on the top of the nightstand, the back of his hand smacking hard into the Gala wood top. The pain woke him more fully than the alarm. He sat up and shook his hand to ease the pain even as his other hand reached over to turn off the still ringing alarm. He blinked at the time.
The alarm was the latest in a long line of them. Ames had never been fond of mornings. Even as a child he had been hard to rouse from his bed and could sleep through even the chaotic electrical storms that tore through the outer reaches of the Thestan province each storm season. His mother told him that if the entire planet of Scovan were to blow up, he would only wake when his bed fell out from under him.
He smiled to himself at the thought as he slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. He could almost hear his father adding that Ames would sleep through the second coming of the Cragorian Empire. This of course always set off his grandmother, as it was designed to do.
His father was almost fully of Earther blood, those from the planet Earth arriving as the Cragorian Empire was in its last days and had long since ceased to care what happened on the planet Scovan. His mother on the other hand was a mix of Earther and Cragorian settler with a heavy line of native pre Empire blood mixed in. Most of the pre-empire blood came from her mother and there was nothing his father enjoyed more than riling up his mother-in-law.
Ames was fairly certain it was one of his favorite hobbies.
They were all gone now of course, and sometimes, especially in the morning, he missed the arguments and the banter. While he loved his life and often went out with friends, he didn’t have time for much else. His latest ex, Garana would say he didn’t make time for anything else. He thought about it as he relieved his bladder, washed his hands and face, then brushed his teeth. As he finished brushing his teeth he looked to the left, giving the side eye to a dead potted plant.
Garana gave it to him as a gift. She claimed it was a plant no one could kill. He hadn’t meant to take it as a challenge. He tried to keep it alive. It was so far from alive now that he thought it qualified as mummified remains. He thought about throwing it away as he did every time he looked at the remains of the plant. As always simply chucking it in the bin seemed a bit too disrespectful. It had after all once been a living thing.
‘I suppose it fits in with everything else,’ he thought rinsing out the toothpaste and setting the brush back in its holder. He went back to dress, hurrying his steps as he realized his time was growing short. This incarnation of the alarm may have gotten him out of bed, but he set it as late as he possibly dared. Now he heeded to hurry.
He dressed more on instinct than sight. All his trousers were varying shades of black or brown and all his shirts went with the trousers more or less. Some might not be fashionable pairings, but they wouldn’t look too off putting. He had to actually pause and think about the sport coat, looking at the trousers to see if he grabbed a brown or a black pair so that would at least match.
Ames long ago gave up on the necktie that a few of the older faculty members still preferred but he realized the sport coat covered a multitude of sins. Once dressed he made his way to the living room. His satchel was almost completely packed. All he needed was the item to serve as his example during today’s lecture.
His shelves were a mix of books and odd items picked up during his digs. Most were small souvenirs he picked up in the smaller towns where he stayed during the archeological dig season. There were also tourist replicas of ancient artifacts sprinkled about as well as framed symposium posters and a few framed awards. His ex always thought it was an extension of his office rather than an apartment.
It was another thing they fought about before the end. Ames shook his head wondering why he was thinking of her so much this morning. She had been gone for months now.
‘The letter,’ he thought. He recalled seeing her handwriting on an envelope when he picked up his mail the day before. He shoved it all in his bag and then promptly forgot about it.
“Focus, Ames,” he told himself. Today’s lecture dealt with myth and history and he liked to have an item to focus on as he lectured. Mixed in with all the tourist-y replicas were some original pieces. He knew he should not take any of them. Most he could justify having, but a few fell into gray areas and several he knew he couldn’t actually explain how they managed to find their way into his possession.
Not legally anyway.
Then he spotted it. A ceremonial drinking cup. It was a replica of a rather famous pre-empire one that the museum tended to feature on its catalogs. There were representations of the demonic creatures called the Couran dancing along the bottom edge of the piece with what was thought to be elements from the ritual sacrifice placed in a decorative band above.
It would be perfect for the lecture.
He picked it up and placed it in a reusable lunch bag which he slipped into his work bag. He then made certain he had his keys and left his apartment.
As he walked the three blocks from the apartment where he lived to the university, he thought about the cup. While he studied the pre-empire cultures of Scovan for throughout his academic career and now alternated between teaching university classes and conducting seasonal archaeological digs, there was always a warring in him when he thought of the Couran.
When he attended his first university lecture on pre-empire cultures as an undergrad he was stunned to find that the Couran were a myth that few were familiar with. Those who had heard of them knew little more than the name Couran and considered them generally ancient demons.
The professor , Dr Maxarna, delighted in telling them the tales. At the time Ames thought they were toned down versions of the tales, edited for class. After further study he realized Dr. Maxarna was telling them the tales he and the other professors learned from study and the few stories they collected.
As spooky as some of the other students found them, they were nothing compared to the versions his grandmother told. As a child he had been both terrified and obsessed with the tales. He begged her to tell him more of the stories even though they often left him with nightmares. While he had gotten over his childish fears, he still wore the charm she gave him to ward off the Couran.
As he walked, Ames reached up to his chest and touched the amulet through the cloth of his shirt. Occasionally he had to replace or repair the chain but those were the only times he ever removed it. Since she gave it to him, he wore it every day. He wore it in the shower and even to bed.
The presence of the amulet kept his nightmares at bay, but without the fear, his interest in the stories grew. He collected many of the stories and they were in the end what drew him to archaeology. Still the stories he knew, the stories others were willing to tell him, weren’t the standard university fare. He was always careful to keep the two separate.
While Ames considered himself a Scovian with his blood mix being fairly typical for the Thestan Provence and indeed for city of Hearca-act, Ames inherited some of his physical features from his grandmother along with her love of the stories. He had the high cheekbones, hair so black it often seemed to have blue highlights in the sun and the icy blue eyes that were common markers of the pre-empire natives. It may have only been a small part of his genetics, but it showed in his appearance.
And so with all of the pre-empire information, he had to toe the line with his representation. He taught what the University of Thesdan wanted him to teach.
However with his looks, he was often able to get others with similar features to talk to him in ways they wouldn’t talk to others from the university. He was collecting those stories and filing them away. He had not yet decided what he was going to do with them as they weren’t considered appropriate.
What he learned that didn’t fit that model, he left out of his lectures even if he documented it. He even edited the research papers he submitted for publication. He kept unedited copies of course, but those weren’t the ones that were published. Often, he wondered what would happen to them when he passed away and his papers were sent to the University archives.
He wondered if they would burn them or store them away to later influence a future scholar when attitudes and perceptions changed.
He didn’t know but as his lecture today in many ways involved the concept of perception, it was not a bad thought to start the day on.
‘And a much better one than Garana.’
Now that he remembered the letter he found himself filled with a certain curiosity, however he knew reading the letter before a lecture would be a bad idea. He tried to limit his bad ideas to his off-work hours.
Ames reached the university proper, having to skirt around the latest construction project. It seemed these days the projects ringed the University and the sound of construction was a frequent backdrop to his lectures. He nodded and smiled to a few of his students who called out a greeting. His smile, with them, was always warm and welcoming. In general, he liked his students. He was less enthused by some of the faculty, one in particular.
‘And here comes Devan Bacol now,’ Ames thought.
He felt his smile grow tight and brittle as he saw Bacol approaching. The man’s focus was the Early Empire on Scovan and often proclaimed that nothing coming before the empire was worthy of study. He despised anything native from history to people with Ames’ bone structure.
Even six months after the appointment, Bacol was still fuming that someone like Ames was appointed Head of their department. Bacol had already been sketching out where he wanted things to be placed when he transferred them to the head office and still hadn’t gotten over the loss of the appointment.
