Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Reed

A foot rose above a horizon of books and papers. It rhythmically danced to an unheard melody. As it danced the foot began knocking over the books on which it sat, the foot’s owner quickly jumped out of its seat and balancing on the other leg and attempted to catch the falling pile which proceeded on its course off the desk and onto the ground. The owner failing to catch also failed at standing on one foot proceeded to fall in the opposite direction and landed in another pile of papers.

Reed, if knowledge doesn’t kill you, one day books will, he thought to himself, then thought of the poetic justice of his name. I bet no one would have thought what would come of naming a kid Reed. He laughed to himself and then let it flow out to fill the rest of the room, but his laughter soon brought him back to a sober questioning, I wonder if they did know, or if they do?

Changing the focus of his mind, trying not to focus on the past, he stood and started to search for the pile that once was once on his desk. Stepping gingerly in little foot holes between the piles he found the diagrams and book on grain mill construction he was supposed to be researching. He shuffled through several of the designs and found the last one he had drawn. All the parts separately had been tested, the only question was if arranged this way it would work. Running his hand from the first input to the last output he traced each wheel and cog in his mind checking for usability and efficiency. As long as that is a perfect 90 degree angle it will all work. He smiled and waded toward the door. Opening it he looked back at the desk and longed to stay. Sadly reading doesn’t pay the bills.

Reed opened the door to the sound of sandals running down a hall towards him. He grinned an impish smile as he recognized the awkward pitter-patter of a friend’s footstep.

Down the hall a rugged unkempt man with a mane of brown hair, highlighted with sun bleached blond strands ran towards him. He had tied his robe around his waist and folded the top down off his shoulders to allow for a more efficient run. As he came up to the door he pulled himself up and slid to a halt in front of Reed.


“Rigel,” Reed spoke feigning surprise, “right on time, although I thought you were a foreman on this project, not a runner.” He goaded putting on his robe and hiding his head in the hood.

Standing straight and recovering from his run Rigel stared at the impish consultant. “If you weren’t the only one who knew how to make this thing work I might deck you myself.” He spat the words out as if they were the only weapons he had. It was a normal occurrence whenever Rigel came to meet up with Reed, mostly out of habit, and because Rigel knew, Reed had little else then what he could read in a book, which could not teach him how to interact with people. “Hell, if I knew how to read I would just steal those papers and follow them myself.” Rigel turned and slowly walked back the way he came.

Locking the door behind him Reed started walking in the direction from which Rigel had come. The two made an odd sight. Rigel was tanned and toned with his chest and legs uncovered; his body slightly glistened as rays of light came in from the window. The robe he wore around his waist had bleached and grayed from many years of work in the sun, upon close inspection you could see it had been well made, and would last several more years.

Reed was slightly taller than his counterpart was, but his slouch made him almost look shorter. His insatiable thirst for knowledge had left its mark, turning his skin pale and making his eyes hide from the sun that searched for him under the hood of his robe. His legs and arms were long with only skin and bone, as he went for days eating only crackers and grapes. He walked with an arrogant step that with each stride seemed as if he was looking down on the world.

After they had left the monastery and started down the path almost halfway to the mill, Rigel hesitantly spoke, afraid of his words, and even more afraid of Reed’s answers. “Reed?” he asked, “we have been acquaintances for a while now,” he said thinking back, “it has been almost four years now, and well,” he paused, grasping for words, “I feel as if I might know you as well as anyone does anymore, and I consider you a friend for the most part.”

“What are you after, Rigel?” Reed impatiently asked. Thinking better of his rudeness afterward he blushed beneath his hood, for none to see.

“I have decided to go on a trip,” Rigel stated, feeling betrayed by his companion’s rudeness. “I know you don’t ever want to leave the monastery, your room full of all your books, but there is a whole vast world out there you are missing, and I am ready to go find it.” He commented flatly, not wanting to debate with Reed the existence of a world that is not bound between two covers. “I have it all arranged. I can leave end of next week as long as we get the wheel in place for the mill and your diagrams have been fully read over. The only problem is I need a thousand silvers to make passage on the boat and I won’t get paid in full for this job until it is finished in a few months.” Rigel paused before the next sentence, swallowing his pride and preparing for the rude remark to come from Reed’s mouth. “I would like to borrow a thousand silvers from you. In three months you can pick up my stipend from this job and it will be more than you lend me.”

Reed’s thoughts jumped through so many scenarios and worries, a tear streaked down his cheek and dripped into his robe never to be acknowledged. Rigel was really the only person who could be considered his friend, except for the bookstore owner, and librarian, yet they were merely out to make a profit, where Rigel never asked for anything for all his time with Reed. There was a long silence that filled the air.

“Reed? Were you listening?”

“Huh?”

Rigel stopped and turned to look at Reed. “Can I borrow the money? Are you at least going to answer?” Rigel’s anger flashed. He reached out and stopped Reed in his tracks. “If you don’t want to spare it fine, I can get it another way.”

“I don’t know,” Reed said simply, “I need to think. I didn’t know you wanted to leave.”

Rigel’s anger faded. He knew Reed. It was too soon for him to make a decision, because a thinker needed time to weigh the situation but he was glad for the acknowledgment.

“Tell me, what do you hope to find,” Reed paused lifting his eyes to meet Rigel’s, “what is out there that calls you so?”

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