Young Writers Society

Please note: this is the roughest rough draft I have ever written. I threw it together in eleven days because the plot bunnies would not leave me alone. 

The soft chime of her alarm clock echoed through the quiet apartment. Evelyn blinked into the pale morning light filtering through her bedroom window, the soft hum of the city outside a distant murmur. She stretched beneath her covers, the familiar weight of routine settling over her like a comforting blanket. Another busy day awaited, but before Evelyn could get lost in her thoughts, she felt the familiar weight of paws landing softly on her lap. She looked down to find the large Maine Coon cat, his golden eyes wide with feigned innocence, his tail flicking impatiently.

“Good morning, your majesty,” she murmured. In response, he gave her a slow, regal blink that could have been taken as approval. Or not. He was a cat, after all. He let out a slow, deep growl that she instantly knew the meaning of, her point only being proven as Rufus shoved his head under her palm.

“Really, Rufus?” she said with a smile, knowing full well that he had perfected the art of getting her attention when it suited him. Rufus meowed, a sound that was more demanding than it was plaintive, and nudged his head against her hand again.

Evelyn chuckled, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “I’m going to be late, you know.”

But Rufus wasn’t having it. He gave a soft grunt of protest, climbing further onto her lap, planting himself on the upper part of her check. He stretched, as if to remind her just how serious he was about this interaction. His warm fur pressed against her cheek, an anchor in the whirl of her thoughts.

Evelyn sighed and scratched his chin, knowing she wouldn’t get any peace until he had his fill. “Alright, alright, but only for a minute,” she muttered, her fingers working through his thick coat.

As she sat there, she couldn’t help but smile. Rufus was a reminder of the small, everyday joys in life—something she had been letting slip away in the pursuit of her busy schedule. He was always there, demanding attention, reminding her to take a breath. It was odd, how something so simple could ground her so completely.

Eventually, after several minutes of uninterrupted attention, Rufus finally seemed satisfied. With a sigh, Evelyn slid out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cool hardwood floor as she made her way to the kitchen. Rufus, ever the loyal companion, padded after her, his large paws soft against the floor. He leapt up onto the windowsill, his fur gleaming in the morning light, giving him the appearance of some royal overseer. His dignified air was often amusing, especially considering his nighttime antics—like the way he’d gleefully knock things off the counter just to watch them fall.

She moved about the small kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug and filling the space with the scent of warmth. The silence of the apartment felt oddly comforting as she sipped the coffee, her gaze drifting to the neatly stacked piles of papers on the counter—student essays to grade, lesson plans to prepare, books to read. The life of a university history professor was demanding, but it was hers, and she’d worked hard to build a sense of order within it. She glanced at the clock, a sudden pang of urgency urging her forward. The day awaited, and it would be filled with meetings, lectures, and responsibilities.

Evelyn grabbed her cardigan from the back of the chair and draped it over her shoulders, the soft fabric comforting against the morning chill. She moved quickly but with purpose, gathering her bag, double-checking her papers for the lecture she would be delivering later that day. She slid her phone into her pocket, but it buzzed before she could fully zip her bag.

Pulling it out, she glanced at the screen and saw a familiar number. It was Claire—her best friend since college, and one of the few people who could get her out of her head long enough to enjoy a real conversation. She swiped to answer, already anticipating Claire’s enthusiastic tone.

“Hey, Eve!” Claire’s voice was bright, filled with her usual energy. “I know you’ve got a million things to do today, but I had to call and remind you about our coffee date this afternoon. Don’t even think about canceling. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Evelyn smiled, feeling the warmth of the friendship she treasured. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m looking forward to it. After all, I’ll need some caffeine to get me through my pre-vacation to-do list.”

Claire let out a dramatic sigh. “Right, the big trip! You’re finally going to England—what’s it, a week from today? So jealous. You better take lots of pictures so I can live vicariously through you.”

“I will. I plan on taking a ton of photos, but mostly, I’m excited to just take in the history. You know, visit a few old estates, wander around, maybe even soak up a little bit of that Regency charm.”

“Ah, yes, your history obsession,” Claire teased. “You’re going to be one of those tourists who talks to the housekeepers about the estate’s history, aren’t you?”

“Only if I find a good one to talk to,” Evelyn replied with a laugh. “But honestly, I think I need this.”

“Well, you deserve it. Just promise me you won’t bury your nose in books the whole time, okay? Take a moment to actually experience it—maybe get lost in the charm of the past for a change. You might even find some romance along the way,” Claire added with a teasing tone.

Evelyn chuckled, shaking her head as she slid her shoes on. “I think I’m too practical for that. You know how I am.”

“I know,” Claire said with a knowing laugh. “But hey, you never know. Maybe life will surprise you.”

As they continued chatting for a few more minutes, Evelyn’s mind wandered to the trip ahead. The idea of immersing herself in the world she’d only ever read about was starting to feel a little less like an escape and more like a possibility. She could already imagine the ancient, ivy-clad manor houses, the whispers of long-forgotten histories surrounding her. Perhaps, Claire was right—perhaps a little romance, even if it was only in the form of old architecture, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

When Claire finally wished her luck on the day ahead and hung up, Evelyn placed her phone on the counter, taking a moment to breathe in the quiet of her apartment. The morning sun filtered through the window, casting a soft light on the room as she grabbed her keys and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Rufus gave a soft meow, breaking her from her thoughts. She gave him a brief scratch behind the ears before checking the time. “Oh, no, I’m going to be late!”

Within minutes, Evelyn was out the door, her keys clutched in one hand and her coffee mug in the other. The morning air, sharp with the crispness of early autumn, prickled against her skin as she stepped outside. As she walked through the familiar streets of the city, the quiet buzz of early morning activity surrounded her—cars speeding by, the rattle of subway trains in the distance, the gentle hum of life that always seemed to pick up as the world began to stir.

Her mind flickered back to her workday, already filling up with the weight of tasks to complete. She had a meeting with a colleague later that afternoon to discuss the upcoming semester’s curriculum—no surprises there. It would be another round of explaining the nuances of historical context, refining course materials, and finding ways to make her students see the passion she felt for history. She was used to it by now.

Her classroom was been a whirlwind that morning. She lectured on the dynamics of social change during the Regency period, her students listening attentively—at least most of them. There was the usual mix of eager faces and the occasional distracted gaze, but Evelyn did her best to engage them. This was her element. Here, she was a professor, and her expertise was undeniable—her lectures were meticulously crafted, her insights into historical contexts sharp and thoughtful, and her ability to weave complex ideas into engaging discussions left her students both enlightened and inspired. She had a knack for bringing the past to life, making the distant world of Regency England feel as immediate and relevant as the current events unfolding outside the classroom. Her students respected her not only for her vast knowledge but for her unwavering passion, and it was that commitment to her craft that made her one of the most respected faculty members in her department, even though she was the youngest.

After class, she returned to her office to tackle the mountain of emails that had piled up overnight. A few inquiries from students, some administrative updates, and the usual barrage of departmental communications. She found herself skimming through it all, not because she didn’t care, but because it all felt so predictable. She answered the same types of emails everyday, and truthfully the only thing that changed in the majority of them was the address of the sender.

When the clock struck noon, Evelyn decided it was time to take a break. She grabbed her things and stepped out of her office, making her way to the café where Claire was waiting. The walk was short but gave her a moment to clear her mind before diving into the social interaction that awaited. She didn’t mind these midday breaks, though—Claire always had a way of making her feel more at ease, even when the pressures of work felt overwhelming.

The café, a cozy little spot with dark wooden floors and the warm scent of freshly brewed coffee, was a perfect refuge from the busy world outside. It was bustling when she arrived, the warm buzz of conversation filling the air.Claire was already sitting at a corner table, a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, her dark curls falling loosely around her shoulders as she looked up at Evelyn and smiled.

She waved as Evelyn approached, her cheerful expression welcoming. Evelyn couldn’t help but smile back as she slid into the seat across from her.

“I thought you’d never get here,” Claire teased, the twinkle in her eye betraying the playful tone. “The history of nineteenth century England can’t have been that fascinating today.”

Evelyn chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as she settled into the easy comfort of her friend’s presence. “You know me,” she said with a warm smile. “I could go on and on about corsets, scandals, and social hierarchies… but even I have a limit.” She shook her head with a laugh. “As fascinating as it all is, I can get wrapped up in those old stories and forget there’s a real world out here, too.”

Claire raised an eyebrow, grinning. “So even the great Professor Evelyn has a historical overload threshold?”

Evelyn laughed, holding up her hands. “Guilty as charged! But it’s true—sometimes, I need a reminder that I don’t actually live in my books.” Her gaze softened. “Though I can’t help but feel like each story I uncover makes me a part of it, just for a little while. But I am glad to see you, and I’m glad for the break.”

Claire laughed, her eyes full of understanding. “Well, I’m glad you came. You deserve a break. So, how’s the planning for your trip?”

Evelyn’s face brightened at the mention of her upcoming vacation. “It’s all set,” she said, her voice soft with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life. The whole idea of stepping into that part of history, seeing the places I’ve only read about or studied for years—it just feels like the perfect escape.”

“Sounds magical,” Claire said, her voice warm with genuine interest. “Are you really just going to wander around and take in the sights? Or do you have some historical treasure hunt in mind?”

Evelyn laughed, the idea appealing in a way. “Well, a treasure hunt might be too much, but I’m definitely going to make the most of it. Maybe visit some local archives, look for old family records. I want to feel the history, not just see it.” She stirred her drink, her gaze drifting. “I won’t lie—I’m nervous, though. I’ve never even left the city, let alone the country. There’s so much to plan for—flights, accommodations, everything. And what if I forget something crucial? Or worse, what if the whole trip is a disaster? What if I accidentally get on the wrong plane?”

Claire laughed softly but reached across the table to give Evelyn’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Evelyn, you’re one of the most organized people I know. If anyone’s going to handle the details, it’s you.” She leaned back, studying Evelyn with that familiar mixture of care and honesty. “But maybe this is the perfect chance for you to take a break from all that planning and perfection. Maybe leave a little room for the unexpected. You’re going to a whole new place—it’s England, for goodness sake! Let yourself just… be in it.”

She paused, smiling thoughtfully. “Think about it. You’ve spent years studying all those details and stories in dusty libraries. This trip could be more than a research project; it’s a chance to live a little. There’s a whole world out there, Evelyn. And you’re not getting any younger,” she added with a teasing grin. “Let life surprise you. Who knows? Maybe this is just the beginning of something… bigger.”

Evelyn looked at Claire, her nerves gradually melting under the warmth of her friend’s words. There was something tempting, freeing, in what Claire was saying—a whole adventure waiting, one she couldn’t control or predict. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to step outside her comfort zone. Evelyn sighed, but the thought lingered in her mind. Maybe, just maybe, Claire was right. She had spent so many years wrapped up in her research, her lectures, her structured, orderly life. It was all she knew, and part of her resented the idea of stepping away from it. But another part of her—one that she’d buried deep down—was curious. What would it be like to let go, even if just for a little while? Evelyn let out a dry chuckle.

Claire winked. “Hey, I’m just saying. A change of scenery can do wonders. You never know who or what you might find on the other side of the world.”

Their conversation was briefly interrupted by a server, but even as they shifted topics, Evelyn found her mind wandering back to Claire’s words. Let life surprise her. Allow herself to be swept up in the unexpected. The thought lingered, warm and unfamiliar, nudging at the carefully constructed walls she’d built around her life. Maybe it wasn’t such a wild idea. Maybe it was exactly what she needed to shake things up, to feel truly alive.

As they wrapped up their coffee, Claire gave her a final teasing glance. “You’re going to have a great time, Eve. Just promise me you’ll try to enjoy yourself. No academic notes, no plans—just… see where the trip takes you.”

As they left the café, Claire wrapped Evelyn in a warm hug, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “You’ve got this, Eve. And remember, if you need me, I’m just a phone call away. But I hope,” she added with a grin, “you’ll be too busy getting swept up in adventures to even think about calling me.”

Evelyn laughed, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that.”

They parted ways on the bustling street, and by the time she returned to her office, the familiar routine quickly pulled her back. Her desk, piled with stacks of history journals and marked-up research papers, looked just as she’d left it. The hum of students’ voices echoed in the hallway outside her door. She slipped off her coat, set her coffee on the desk, and powered up her laptop, watching the screen flicker to life with a comforting glow.

A long to-do list awaited her: grading essays, finalizing lecture notes, responding to more student emails, and reviewing proposals for the next university research conference. Letting out a sigh, she settled into her chair, rolling up her sleeves and reaching for her red pen. The familiar rhythm of grading and organizing usually brought her a sense of calm, a sense of control. But today, she felt restless, as if the walls of her office were closing in on her. The words on the page blurred slightly as her mind drifted.

She caught herself staring out the window, lost in thoughts of winding English roads and fog-draped gardens. With a small shake of her head, she tried to refocus, picking up the first essay from the stack in front of her. But the thrill of the trip and the possibility of something unexpected kept nudging at her, refusing to fade.

It was as though her usual rhythm felt slightly offbeat, like a melody with a note missing. She shuffled through her notes and paused on a flyer she’d printed for her trip to Whitmore Manor. She smoothed the paper absently, her fingers tracing the outline of the grand estate pictured on the page. She could practically feel the old stone walls, smell the ancient wood, and hear the whisper of history in the air.

She snapped out of her thoughts when a knock sounded at her office door. Her colleague, Dr. Lewis, peered in, his brow raised. “Good afternoon, Evelyn. Ready for the proposal meeting?”

“Yes, of course,” she replied, slipping the flyer beneath her notebook as though she’d been caught daydreaming.

But as the day wore on, Evelyn felt a quiet thrill simmering beneath the surface, a feeling she couldn’t shake. And when she finally finished her work and left the office that evening, she didn’t head straight home. Instead, she found herself wandering into a nearby bookstore, where she browsed the travel section and thumbed through a book on English estates. She bought it on a whim, feeling that it was only fitting to bring along.

Evelyn walked slowly, savoring the brisk evening air as the sun dipped below the skyline, painting the city in shades of dusky pink and violet. The familiar sounds of New York—the distant hum of traffic, the chatter from cafes, the rustling of leaves as a light breeze swept the street—felt different tonight, as if she were seeing them through fresh eyes. She clutched her coat tightly, feeling an odd sense of exhilaration fluttering through her chest, a small, pulsing thrill she couldn’t quite place. What was it that Claire had said? Let life surprise her.

The idea kept tapping at her mind, stirring something within her that had been dormant for years. She thought of her life as it was—perfectly stable, meticulously planned. But for the first time, the predictability of it all felt like a weight, holding her back from something elusive yet undeniably magnetic. Her fingers brushed the old pendant watch she wore on a chain around her neck, a gift from her grandmother, who’d always said Evelyn needed to live a little, to let go and embrace the unknown. She’d always dismissed that advice, but tonight… tonight it resonated differently, as if the air itself were whispering encouragement.

The next day was a flurry of activity as she packed and made arrangements, her mind alight with anticipation. She skimmed over her itinerary but, for once, let herself leave parts of it unplanned. She left behind her usual stack of academic papers and, on impulse, packed the one romance novel she owned, one she hadn’t read since her early twenties. She was leaving the safety net of her world behind, and the uncertainty felt unexpectedly freeing.

By evening, Evelyn found herself at the airport, waiting in line to board, surrounded by strangers embarking on their own journeys. A low hum of conversation filled the air, the soft crackle of announcements overhead mixing with the quiet buzz of engines preparing for takeoff. She clutched her boarding pass tightly, her knuckles white as she took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. The gate attendant called her group, and she stepped forward, heart pounding with a sensation she could only describe as possibility.

As she found her seat, Evelyn settled in and leaned back, gazing out the small oval window at the sprawling city below. The plane began to taxi, and her fingers instinctively traced the pendant watch again, its familiar cool metal steadying her. She watched the runway pass in a blur, and with a gentle but insistent rush, the plane lifted, the ground falling away beneath her. Her stomach dropped, but this time, the sensation was not anxiety—it was pure exhilaration.

As the plane ascended, the sky outside transformed into a canvas of deep purples, soft blues, and amber streaks as twilight descended over the horizon. Evelyn rested her head against the window, her reflection gazing back at her, as if urging her forward into whatever awaited.

Lost in thought, she let her eyes drift closed, allowing herself to dream, to imagine.