The Five to Fifteen Minutes Thread.

[Linna Heartbooger]

They were at it again.

When my neighbors were fighting, I couldn't do anything but sit in a chair. Couldn't cook, couldn't read, couldn't think. But I could hear. And did I ever. I've always thought "paper-thin walls" is an exaggeration. You can hear through stuff that's thicker than paper.

Today, their fight rose and fell to the high-pitched tune of the voice of the woman pleading, imprecating. And then then man's deep bellow. And then a scream. And then over again, rinse, repeat. Except maybe not so much with the rinse.

Blind as I was by virtue of the wall, I couldn't tell how bad it was getting. Additionally, I thought, "Even if I was a fly on the wall watching it in there, how would I know how much she's gonna be able to endure?"

So I sat in my chair and turned over in my head the last conversation I had with Cory, my cousin, who knows stuff about these things. We'd talked about the risks of, "What if I called the cops, and it turned out have the effect of the boy who cried wolf?"

But this was stupid, because what could I do? You just don't know your neighbors. And if I went over there on some dumb pretense like to by a cup of sugar, they'd know why, and maybe their fights would go "underground." It's really frustrating that you don't know your neighbors as much around here. It's like the only socially-acceptable conversations are to complain about when the washers and dryers are out of order, or when the fire alarms go off as a false alarm. Which they do often.

Fire alarms. I blinked. I got up and swung into action. I found a piece of leftover bread, and broke off third of it. No need to waste a whole piece when a third of a piece would do just fine. I opened the oven and carefully placed it over a heating element.

But how would I explain that? Too suspicious. I remembered something my friend had told me she used to do as a habit. I quickly got all my dirty pans off the counter and stuffed them into the oven. Grabbed the one-third piece of bread back out and threw it in the sink. I preheated the oven to 350 degrees and proceeded to make chocolate-chip cookie dough.

Then I went outside on the porch to water my plants, because if I was inside I would smell the smoke too soon.
Five minutes later, I was saying, "Damn fire alarm!" and rushing inside, but it probably sounded like a tone of voice for someone to say "Glorious fire alarm, you totally rock!"

(15 mins... hoping to write another 15-minute installment later. I have had this story in my for awhile!)

[aliantha]

Very cool -- and an ingenious way to break up the fight!

[Sorus]

I like it. Actually reminds me - peripherally - of the piece I was working on, which still wants to be written. I don't particularly want to write it, and I'm not sure anyone will want to read it, but it's probably going to get written just because that's the only way to get it out of my head.

Edit - I realize in retrospect that that doesn't sound very flattering towards your piece - that wasn't intended, nor should it be construed as such - I'm not good at writing RL-type stuff, so it's annoying when RL-type stuff is what wants to be written.

[deer of the dawn]

I'll try to do a quick and dirty take on an idea I have had...

***

Doctor Sheila Barnes gazed across a rough valley to the broken mountain range opposite, miles of wind blasting across her exalted position on the ridge. Condors. Of course there would be condors.

The Postapocalyptic Recovery Plan included a slow release of DNA into the healing landscape. Small rodents, first, who could survive on scrub and deal with the proliferation of cockroaches (which had not been part of the Plan, but had stubbornly refused to succumb to the toxic air and water). While succeeding generations of scientists, artists, historians, and file clerks lived out their lives in subterranean angst, the next iteration had included predators along with an escalating range of prey: starlings, coyotes, and crocodiles; finally the deer, moose, bears, pumas, and songbirds. A few kinds of fish; ocean mammals were still a century from release.

She brought the binoculars to her eyes again, watching the condors kettle on the rising thermal that built up from the morning sun hitting the bald rock faces of the ragged peaks. She wondered if what her grandmother had told her was true: that coded into the genetics of each creature released were triggers. It allowed the condors to prey upon the white-tailed deer, but not the mountain goats whose recovery was slower. When their population reached a certain level, the code would respond by changing. The wolves had been coded for eating rodents, the bears to leave the fish alone-- for now.

So why were there so many condors all of a sudden? Human beings had begun to populate deep gorges where they could hide from the harsh, unfiltered sunlight thirty years before. Sheila lived below, in the underground labs, keeping vigil on the slow release as the Plan entrusted the air with its precious diversity of creatures, reconstituted from hides and bones. But the balance was still unsteady and the codes were needed in order for species not to overburden the fragile environment as it recovered.

Sheila did not notice the shadow that swept over her; rather it was only the hiss through its feathers at the last moment that alerted her to the presence of the condor who had circled behind her. She felt the claws sink into her shoulder muscles and the binoculars fell from her hand, rolling down the hill some yards. But she was lifted from the fragile earth and realized that the codes would not forgive.

***

EDIT: Just 15 minutes, but I am allowing myself a couple more for proofing.

[Linna Heartbooger]

The Newest Economy*

"Honey, I need forty bucks."
I tried to keep my voice light and casual, hoping that would make it sound like I thought it was natural he would agree.

No such luck.
He turned on me, and met me face-on with the blueness of his eyes.
"You want to teach that one student today."

Since it was not a question, and he knew me, I let loose more emotion.
"Ye-eessssss!"

Big sigh from him.
"Honey, we can't always afford that."

I just stood there. I swallowed. I blinked. I could stand here and think and pray, and he would think it through.

He put an arm on my shoulder.
"I know. You really are hoping to tutor her. You think this one is really capable and promising, don't you?"

I looked down, because his gentleness was all that was needed to let loose the proverbial floodgates.

But then I started to grin.
He'd used the present tense.

So I nodded.
Silently, I thought, "Yes. I am hoping to tutor her."

With a shrug of his hands, he reminded me, "I know she's a good student, but forty dollars an hour is a lot."
Glad my face was lowered, I grinned bigger and thought: "Gimme an inch and I'll take a mile."

"I mean, how do you think you could make stuff work?"

I closed my eyes. "Give me a minute or two."

I thought I was going to think to myself for a minute, but... too nervous.
So instead I started talking without thinking: "Okay, I've got an idea. I can stop by the bakery and get an extra chocolate cake twice a week. You know I love chocolate cake."
That's an extra $8 each time.

He shook his head decisively: "No. Diminishing returns."

He was right. Too frequent. A chocolate cake three times a week would not be worth three times as much as a chocolate cake once a week.
In fact, it may go into the negatives, which was a horrible thought.
________________________

...I realize in retrospect that that doesn't sound very flattering towards your piece - that wasn't intended, nor should it be construed as such

Sorus- silly... it didn't occur to me to think that at all!

I love the idea of writing something in large part "to get those pesky characters out of your head."

Deer- three reactions:
1. neat world-building
2. "Oh dear!"

So why were there so many condors all of a sudden? Human beings had begun to populate deep gorges where they could hide from the harsh, unfiltered sunlight thirty years before.

3. such ominious foreshadowing, if I only knew.



* Edit: I wanted to call it "The New New Economy," but that was the title of some article...

[Linna Heartbooger]

"The Newest Economy," continued.

What about... something I loved, but hadn't done in a long time?
Horseback riding.

I looked up at him, my face shining.
"Honey, I've figured it out."
"If I went horseback riding once every two weeks... I... I don't know, I think that would be like $120 right there."
"I think even if I went riding every week, it would never get below ninety each time."

He looked up at me, his eyes assenting.
"Yeah... I can see how that would work. You'd love doing that, so of course you'd get a lot for that. And everybody knows grooms and stableboys have big bucks."

It's so true. Grooms and stableboys have the big bucks. Janitors and small country pastors, too. And don't even get me started on landscapers and nannies!

He gave me a hug: "This is gonna work."
"Is it too late now, or can you give her a call?"

"No, it's fine. I'll give her a call. I'm pretty sure she can even meet me for tutoring tonight."

(I totally spent more than 30 mins on these 2 together.
My excuse?
I'm practically in love with this idea and I've wanted to write this for a long, long while...)

[JIkj fjds j]

I feel really lucky today. I'd almost stayed home this evening because it looked like rain. But then I decided to take a chance and rode my bicycle to the supermarket for some bits'n'pieces. On the way back I took a detour through the park. A circus fun fair had only just arrived, with ots of trucks and lorries ready to unload their gear. Drawing me in like a magnet.

Anyway, once in the park proper it was the sky that was the focus of my wonder. It was as if God had whisked and swept a comb through a pallet of milk and whey. I can't say I've ever seen a canopy of cloud with such an astounding mix of turbulence and tranquillity.
To the North was a fallen thunderhead. I mean it looked like the stem of a mushroom cloud growing up from the earth holding aloft the roof of the sky. Almost as if to reflect my earlier thoughts on a gigantic tree grown beyond the reality of this world. So otherworldly, I'm sure my every senses had been augmented. Sound and vision, both loud and quiet.
Then as if to play one last trick of the light, the Eye of Horus drifted slowly behind the thunderhead. Marking time, I guess.

From the park to my house is mainly downhill. Yes, I feel really lucky today.

[Linna Heartbooger]

Yay - I'm glad you wrote this!
Love the description.

I like the echo of "Yes, I feel really lucky today" at the end. (and it's a great introduction, for that matter.)

Though I don't know whether the second instance of it is ironic. (I'm thinking Clint Eastwood: "Do you feel lucky today, punk?")

and now I'll work on continuing that one peacemaking story which has gotten to here:
_____________________

I sighed as I sat down.
"You don't think he's trying to listen at the door, do you?"
This seemed to jolt a pale, distant Tamra back into existence.
The life flowed back with the color to her face as she grinned: "My parents always had to check me for that when I was a kid. I was the BEST at spying on their conversations."

I licked my lip nervously. "So, the thing I was going to talk to you about."
She was listening with all her pale and sober attention.
There was no way she was going to interrupt me right now, so I did it for her: "Gaaahhhh, I hate this! I don't even know if what I'm going to tell you is necessary, and if I tell it and it's not..."
I trailed off.

She blinked, swallowed, and then said very simply, "You like him."

[JIkj fjds j]

Yay - I'm glad you wrote this!

Thank you, Linna.
I didn't time the writing exercise, but it was about 15 minutes. I did cheat some with a few minor edits. It had started in the How do you feel today thread, in Gen/Disc. But the discriptions were turning into a more heavily laden prose, and I remembered this thread. I often read through these short/short stories but never comment on them.

If I were to rewrite, I would change the recollections about the gigantic tree to perhaps a reverie about a short story idea, or something like that. The 15 minutes rule is good practise at getting straight to the point. I like this thread.

BTW, feeling really lucky was just about seeing something spectacular in nature. Not an everyday occurance. And the cycle home was mostly freewheeling.

[Linna Heartbooger]

...I often read through these short/short stories but never comment on them.

If I were to rewrite, I would change the recollections about the gigantic tree to perhaps a reverie about a short story idea, or something like that. The 15 minutes rule is good practise at getting straight to the point. I like this thread.

Yay!

BTW, feeling really lucky was just about seeing something spectacular in nature. Not an everyday occurance. And the cycle home was mostly freewheeling.

Okay - that's mostly what it sounded like.
And about the bike ride home... wheeeee!

More writing on that story for a few mins: (last one was 5 or 6)
________________

I covered my face.
"Yes."
"I would have said, 'liked' in the past tense, but..."

She was silent.
I started moving my hands as I talked, painting exaggerated shrugs on the walls with my shadows.
"So, umm, we need to do some kind of peacemaking thingy now..." I motioned with my head to the door.

She nodded.
Not enough participation from her end.
So I said, "Umm, okay, where are you on all this?"
"You mean as far as towards him, or towards you, or...?
"Any of those!"
"I knew you liked him all along. I didn't expect you to stand aside like you did in the beginning when we started dating. I was glad."
Loyalty.

"Okay, so since I ...have no idea what I'm doing, why don't we go back out there...?"
At this, her face was overtaken by the good which reveals itself in a genuine grin:
"Since we have no idea what we're doing, let's plunge head-first into the mess that's been exposed!"
We.

Like 10 mins. Need to re-read original story / what I've written so far.

[Sorus]

Yay for activity! I have an idea I've sort of been working on, but I find myself in the 'is this going to offend someone?' zone, and I find I have more difficulty writing here than in places where I'm completely anonymous - because I don't want to offend anyone, but I'm also not willing to censor myself. I occasionally enjoy being vicariously dragged out of my comfort zone, but I respect that not everyone feels that way. And then I argue that SRD fans are really not a squeamish lot, in general, so we'll see which argument wins.

[JIkj fjds j]

Yay for activity! I have an idea I've sort of been working on, but I find myself in the 'is this going to offend someone?' zone, and I find I have more difficulty writing here than in places where I'm completely anonymous - because I don't want to offend anyone, but I'm also not willing to censor myself. I occasionally enjoy being vicariously dragged out of my comfort zone, but I respect that not everyone feels that way. And then I argue that SRD fans are really not a squeamish lot, in general, so we'll see which argument wins.

I'm not sure what to say about that. Just do it!

My disclaimer is this: writing stories allow us to do things we otherwise would never dream of doing in real life.
_________________________________________________________

Jilly took the kids to visit her mother up north. We'd had a big fight about me 'at it again'. Which I wasn't. I'd been going straight for months. So now she's up north and I'm skint and on a street I've never been in. I thought it would be a short-cut but having to double back from a dead end and I guess a wrong turning, and ... I get that feeling. Like a sixth sense. The house on the corner looks like no one's at home. 99 times out of a 100 I'm right.

Maybe it was me just thinking about Jilly, feeling angry, that I find myself round the back knocking out a pane of glass. Dead easy, as always. And I'm inside.
I give myself 10 minutes and that's it. On the sitting room coffee table is a laptop. That'll do. I'm gone. No need to be greedy.

Danny was at home. Thank Heavens. I always got a good price at Danny's.
He checks the laptop. Looks at me queerily. 'Where'd ye get this crap?'
'Crap! That's quality mate. I don't nick crap.'
So he checks the web for a brand name. Nothing.
'This aint even on the net, you moron.'
'It's gotta be worth something?'
'I can't shift it mate. Sorry'.

Then he looks at me again, queerily like. And I get that old familiar shiver running down my back. The laptop suddenly starts to make an odd whirring sound. A red light where the esc key was starts flickering. A warning notice appears on the screen which reads: We Know Where You Are Dummy.
In big red letters a clock runs down from 15 minutes ...

[Sorus]

"There is a technical term for someone who confuses the opinions of a character in a book with those of the author. That term is 'idiot'."

There are a lot of idiots in the world. Not a lot on KW though.

[JIkj fjds j]

"There is a technical term for someone who confuses the opinions of a character in a book with those of the author. That term is 'idiot'."

One of my favorites is the two that meet at a buffet table and one says to the other. "Hi, and what is it do you do?"
"Oh, I'm a brain surgeon".
He then asks, "And what is it you do?"
"Oh," she replies, "I'm a novelist."
"Now that's interesting," says the brain surgeon, "I thought when I retire I might write a novel."
"Now that is interesting," said the novelist, "I thought when I retire I'll take up brain surgery".

I can only write occasionaly, just for the fun of it.

[Linna Heartbooger]

First, Rune- I love it. The internal narrative, the way he had motive, the conversation, the mysteriousness of what's happened.

Yay for activity! I have an idea I've sort of been working on, but I find myself in the 'is this going to offend someone?' zone, and I find I have more difficulty writing here than in places where I'm completely anonymous - because I don't want to offend anyone, but I'm also not willing to censor myself.

I kinda get this... it is tricky...
Though I find it easy (and thrilling) to write lots of things here a lot more than anyplace else because I have a real and known audience.
(well, somewhat known. there's always lurkers who've never created KW usernames, or peeps who found us on a google search.)

I occasionally enjoy being vicariously dragged out of my comfort zone, but I respect that not everyone feels that way. And then I argue that SRD fans are really not a squeamish lot, in general, so we'll see which argument wins.

Oh, I totally put lots of limits on what stuff I put into my mind.
I'm the one who got a book group of moms to switch from a book that was described as "having a lot of sex in it" by saying, "If we do this next month, I will not read it."
(and then for the next book club.. it snowed, and I was a new driver, so I was a no-show. Like, 'wow, that looked bad.')

As far as offending...
Yeah.. something I think about a bit, and regularly. (in both directions: me offending others, and "what's up with me?" when I get offended / react strongly?)
I don't -theeenk- I'm going to post the ending to that one story that takes place on the bus (from the 2-minutes thread) here when I write it!

And now... back to the story that ali encouraged me to write a continuation of, so long ago:
_______________________

We barged out of the door, whacking Brandon in the face as he tried to back away.
I put my hands together, with the grave serenity of a empress all in gold, or like Deborah rebuking Barak.
"We have taken counsel."
Tamra grinned mischievously, "We have decided you're in big, big trouble."
"I... I didn't hear anything," he said.
I threw my eyes up to the sky in exasperation.
"No silly, we're talking about big trouble for the stream of criticisms you released about Tamra not fifteen minutes ago."
"We all like to listen at keyholes. Apparently." I said, throwing a grin at Tamra.
"Just kidding - not to wink at sin, so just to clarify," I said, striking the pose of the adamant teacher, "snooping on other people's private conversations is still wrong."
Tamra sighed her disappointment at this pronouncement with a mock-impish facial expression.
(about 8 mins)

[JIkj fjds j]

First, Rune- I love it. The internal narrative, the way he had motive, the conversation, the mysteriousness of what's happened.

I didn't like it one bit!
Reading it back there were so many badly written sentences that I should have at least tried writing it once more before posting it.
The idea was about a burglar who breaks into a house and steals a laptop belonging to an extra-terrestrial. When the laptop is switched on there are all sorts of otherworldy stuff to scare the living daylights out of the happless pair. But not in 15 minutes, that's for sure!

Being a clumsy writer makes commenting on others uncomfortable to say the least. But fair's fair, you deserve some feedback.
Your stories aren't what I would usually read. Although I did once get hooked on novels by Mavis Cheek, for a little while. The country pub, or tea room chit-chat of the middle classes where like a breath of fresh air for me at one time. So there is a form of familiarity in your writings.
I'm inclined to say that your stories seem to take place in somewhere there's lots of light. The characters seem to me to be always next to windows flooded by light regardless of the time of day. If that make any sense.
This isn't critisism, just observations. But I would critisize this line, Linna:

I threw my eyes up to the sky in exasperation.

There must be a better way to put this than giving the impression of two eyeballs flying up into and through the air

[Sorus]

I didn't like it one bit!
Reading it back there were so many badly written sentences that I should have at least tried writing it once more before posting it.
The idea was about a burglar who breaks into a house and steals a laptop belonging to an extra-terrestrial. When the laptop is switched on there are all sorts of otherworldy stuff to scare the living daylights out of the happless pair. But not in 15 minutes, that's for sure!

I think leaving things a little rough around the edges can be part of the appeal. Given the opportunity, I tend to overedit. The time limit can make things difficult - especially since I try to squeeze worldbuilding, character development, and plot all in at once, which doesn't always work. You don't have to tell the entire story in one go - some of us have stuff here that we've been adding to for years.

[Sorus]

They found the bones of a dragon in the hills above Intertia-by-the-sea...

She remembered the day in snapshots fixed in time:

Sunmotes drifting between the trees in a rare break in the rain. Elders gathered in a circle, whispering furiously. Hunters leaning on their spears, proud as if they'd slain the beast themselves. Children underfoot, oblivious to the tension, their fingers curled into mock fangs and claws as they chased one another around the pit.

Too old to join the children, yet not wise enough to be an Elder. Not brave or fierce enough to be a hunter.

Unnoticed, uncontested, she approached the pit, peered over the edge at the dragon's exposed spine, the vertebrae gleaming mirror-bright like newly minted coins. What creature had metal bones?

They covered the pit later that day. Declared the site cursed. Forbidden.

She left the next morning.

------------------------------------------------


16 years later, and half a world away...


"I hear they're sending you Downriver."

The edge of malice-tinged glee in Jin's voice barely permeated the fog that had enveloped my brain all morning. At least the rumor mill had failed her, for once. Whatever hell awaited me behind that closed door, well, that wasn't even on the list.

I'd expected the worst when the director had scheduled the meeting. I entered the office at the appointed time, closed the door. Sat reluctantly at her gesture. Expected a long and spineless speech about budgets and cutbacks and downsizing. Instead, she extricated a dossier from one of the many piles on her desk, pushed it across to me.

"I'm sending you Downriver."

[Linna Heartbooger]

Yaaayyy, two things I like:
1. Rune's comment on my stuff and
2. Sorus writing stuff here again!

First, Rune, let me explain by way of a story:
I once told a friend that I saw her guy as being "like the image of the stereotypical average American guy."
Her reaction was that he LOVED that comment!
He took that way more as a compliment than I could have anticipated.
(I guess some people just want to hear they seem normal and average.)

And your description of "always next to windows flooded by light regardless of the time of day" is like that for me - the highest compliment.
(especially coming from someone who mostly isn't in to that stuff right now - I'm honored that you felt comfortable saying that, btw!)
Even though I'm writing some things that deal with sorta "tough & gritty" realities... I do think that every situation has a connection to "realms of endless day," and I do want that to be magnified in the stories I tell.

Also, the "threw my eyes up to the sky - maaan, I liked that line.
Like it even more when you tell me what image it conjures up.
But I'm considering modifications.

And Sorus - yay. I fretted a bit over whether you'd be discouraged by my last comment.
So I was relieved when some Sorus-writing showed up on this thread.
Like this:

At least the rumor mill had failed her, for once. Whatever hell awaited me behind that closed door, well, that wasn't even on the list.

Ha ha.
And of course I love "the edge of malice-tinged glee" in Jin's voice.
And the name "Inertia-by-the-sea," and the various responses to the revelation of the presence of dragon bones.

Is this backstory for anyone you've written about here? Or new?
__________________________

I looked over at her and shook my head: "It's like what I said had the exact opposite effect."
"Oh, like the we're not supposed to wink at sin thing? What sin does eavesdropping count as even?"
Now Brandon spoke, "Hmm, that's an interesting question. I think it's probably more what sins does eavesdropping tend to overlap with..."

And we were off on a side-trail. This was probably good. Sometimes the tough things are best approached obliquely.
Unfortunately, having nothing specific to work on, my mind was going to start getting bored soon.
The tea and coffee! Yesss. I would have something at least for my hands to work on.
I turned my eyes over to Tamra: "Black or rooibos?"
She raised two fingers. This was a communication protocol we'd come up with freshman year when we were roommates: one finger for the first thing in the list, two for the second.
Thus: rooibos.

I looked to Brandon.
"Ohh, could you make coffee for me? I'm going to have a bit of a late night of it," he said sheepishly, looking at his watch.
"What about you?" he said, looking at Tamra."
"I already said," said Tamra, grinning mysteriously.
"But does it really count as saying something if no words come out of your mouth?"
I reached over and started getting stuff ready for coffee and tea.
Not for the first time, I was glad for the smallness of a college apartment.
I was over at the kitchen sink filling the carafe, and I was not five steps away from the conversation.
7 minutes? 10? 12? I lost track...

[Sorus]

Is this backstory for anyone you've written about here? Or new?
__________________________

Yess... It's a plot bunny that I am going to connect to existing characters as backstory.