Prompt: Slow, Steady and Soothing

[Prof. Sky Alton]

Let’s slow things down, shall we?
“Slow lit” is a genre of stories that are intentionally slow and peaceful. They don’t have a lot of action and they major on small details and feelings. In fact, they’re purpose-made to lull people to sleep.
So, for this prompt, we’d like you to try to write a story (200 words or more) where nothing really goes on. The theme/genre is completely up to you, providing it’s HOL appropriate and it fits the vibe of slow lit. Try to make it a pleasant read though - you want to gently soothe people and give them just enough forward momentum to keep them following along.
You’ll earn 20 beans for completing this prompt as well as it counting towards the chance to snag our shiny Quill and Ink award.
There is no deadline as such for these prompts but if you’d like it to count towards your chance of earning the award for a specific year, we’ll need it by the end of that school year. If you’re comfortable sharing, then post below. If not, email your story to us via hol.bookclub @ gmail.com (without the spaces). Oh and remember it’s a good idea to check through your piece carefully for spelling and grammatical errors as they make it harder for people to properly enjoy your work.

[Artemisia Thorne]

In the heart of Mundanetown, residing in the midst of absolute predictability, there existed an individual by the name of Robert. Rising promptly at the designated hour, he engaged in the customary activities prescribed by the daily ritual of existence. The toothbrush, adorned with an unassuming hue, was retrieved from its designated container, and the flavourless toothpaste, devoid of any semblance of excitement, was meticulously applied to the bristles.

Dressed uniformly in a set of garments displaying an overwhelming lack of creativity, Robert embarked upon the identical path, characterized by an absence of noteworthy features, that led him to his place of occupation—the Blandville Office Supplies Company. Here, within the confines of a drearily appointed workspace, surrounded by walls exhibiting the most unremarkable shade of beige, Robert proceeded to perform his duties, an assortment of tasks lacking any semblance of stimulation.

The ambient illumination emanating from the overhead fixtures, engineered with a purposeful monotony, cast a uniform glow over the workspace, serving as the sole accompaniment to the laborious monotony of the workday. A symphony of keystrokes, muffled conversations, and the occasional sighs of collective indifference permeated the air, creating an atmosphere saturated with an overwhelming absence of distinction.

The midday interlude transpired uneventfully as Robert, in adherence to the unvarying routine, produced from a receptacle of uninspired design a repast consisting of a sandwich featuring an assemblage of turkey and cheese, the flavours of which lacked any discernible characteristics. Alone in a break room, furnished with an unembellished table and chairs, he consumed the meal with the enthusiasm befitting the culinary insignificance it embodied.

The latter portion of the day unfolded with a dreary predictability, as Robert continued the process of transferring sheets of indistinguishable paperwork from one location to another, typing emails bereft of substance, and periodically casting his gaze toward a chronometer that proceeded to incrementally traverse the temporal landscape at a pace neither swift nor leisurely.

Upon the completion of the designated hours, Robert, clad once more in the uninspiring coat of beige, departed the premises in harmony with the collective exodus of his beige-clad compatriots. A visit to the local grocery establishment ensued, where the routine acquisition of tasteless provisions transpired without deviation from the accustomed script.

Upon returning to his place of residence, a dwelling indistinguishable from its counterparts in its architectural conformity, Robert proceeded to execute a routine evening repast characterized by the lack of any distinguishable culinary attributes. Subsequently, the evening unfolded in the company of a visual apparatus projecting images of unremarkable narratives, and as the clock inexorably approached the designated hour of repose, Robert relinquished consciousness to the embrace of the most uneventful of slumbers.

And thus, the cycles of sameness perpetuated themselves in perpetuity, with no departure from the prescribed patterns of mundanity, and Robert, an embodiment of unremarkability, navigated the corridors of existence in a state of perpetual monotony. The symphony of banality continued its unbroken melody, and in this narrative void of excitement, the reader, if still conscious, finds themselves ensconced in the gentle lull of utter monotony. Goodnight, dear reader, in this unending tale of uneventfulness.

[Hiya Debnath]

That morning, I woke up feeling very lazy. It was the beginning of a long summer vacation of two months. What was I going to do all holiday? I had no plans. I stuck my head face down into my pillow again and went back to sleep. A few minutes later, my alarm rang. "Stupid alarm", I said, waking up and switching it off. Once again, I tried to sleep. I tried to close my eyes, and lay silently. "How many days can I pass just lying down and pretending to sleep?", I thought to myself, "Can I spend all of my holiday doing this?" That thought made me giggle. "Or would I be turned to stone? No, I probably would develop a bed sore, faster still be very hungry, too hungry to keep being silent and still." I thought. I loved food, so that one thought made me raise my head a little. "Ohh dear, I just want to sleep some more", I said, and snuggled back into bed with my head buried in the pillow. I gasped and came up for air in about a minute. I laughed. "Aren't you coming down to breakfast?" I heard my sister calling from downstairs, "Mum has been angrily waiting for awhile now. She has asked me to check on you.".
"Stop yelling", I called back, and pressed my face into the pillow again and tried to sleep. I didn't have any plans and no motivations for waking up.
Someone knocked twice, then thrice, and finally someone banged my door, then burst into my room. It was my sister, screaming, "Hiya, wake up.".