The Mill #writephoto Flash Fiction

The mill is today’s writephoto prompt from K L Caley. Actually it was 14 December 23, but I didn’t use it then. It’s just under 1000 words, and iI hope you enjoy it, especially as it’s probably the last new one of the year.

The Mill

“It was pretty when we set out three hours ago. Now it’s getting dark, we’re lost, and I’m already cold. Oh, and in case you hadn’t checked, there’s no phone signal.”

“I had checked, which is how I found out we didn’t have the map online so that’s why we’re lost.”

Pete and Sue had taken refuge in the mill at the side of the track. It wasn’t much in the way of shelter, since it didn’t even have a roof, but the wall broke up the wind. That had insisted on following the path of the stream, thereby freezing Pete and Sue, who were following the track next to it. The track that had no footprints in the snow on it. Not even animal tracks.

“Do you at least remember a building by the side of this stream? It would probably have been a square black block.” Sue sounded petulant, but then, she was trying not to panic.

“I do know the symbol for building. And it would have been a dashed square line, for a ruin, not a block for a proper building. And I don’t recall seeing one.”

“What is the map showing from when we last had a signal?”

“It’s already cleared. I tried scrolling back, but just ‘location service unavailable’.”

Pete had only recently been persuaded to use an app instead of his beloved Ordnance Survey paper maps. This situation completely proved his point. He was also cross, but with himself, for not carrying basic emergency kit for a winter walk in a new location. No thermos with hot drink, no emergency rations, no space blankets, no torch.

“Look, Sue, this is getting serious. We either keep walking, hoping to hit a road, and hopefully stop a car for help. Or we go back, which could easily be three hours, by when it will be dark, or we hunker down in here, keeping as warm as we can, and wait it out till morning.”

“But we’ll freeze!”

“Let’s see if there’s anything dry further in that will help to keep us warm, a tarpaulin or something. But be careful, the roof’s fallen on top of the old machinery, by the look of it.”

They moved around gingerly, checking for anything to help see them through the night.

“Why don’t we just keep walking down the stream? It must go somewhere. It’s not like we’re in the middle of the Dales. We’re only a few miles from Sheffield.” Sue couldn’t understand how they’d got lost in the first place.

“I thought you wanted to take a break out of the wind.”

“Yes, I did. But I didn’t mean stay the night. Oh, whoops!” Sue slipped on a rafter lying broken across the floor. There was an eerie squeal, and the machinery underneath started revolving. Pete clambered over to her and helped her up. They stared at the cross-shaft, which had turned a few times, then stopped again.

“Well, that’s odd.” Pete looked up at the sky. “The trees have lost their snow cover. It’s made it lighter too.”

“Well, they haven’t shaken it in here, and it feels warmer. I don’t think that’s my body temperature, I think it’s genuinely warmer.”

“Brighter too. Come up here.” Pete pulled Sue up to where he stood, and they gazed out of the window space.

“Where’s the snow gone?” Sue stepped up to the window space and put her head and shoulders through. “The path is completely clear in both directions.”

“Well, I know we’ve been having weird temperature changes recently, but not in the space of minutes.”

“Yes; it’s been freezing mornings and mild afternoons, then switching around again a day or so later. But nothing so…instant.”

“Well, shall we continue down the track? There might even be some sun before dusk.”

It turned into an uneventful late afternoon stroll. After half an hour they found a road, and an obliging farmer told them he was going through the village where they had a room, so they got a lift back.

The receptionist at the inn gave them an odd look when they asked for their key. “Have you checked in already?”

“Yes, last night. Room 23, dinner, bed & breakfast for three nights. This is our second night.”

“What’s the name, please?”

“Evans, Peter & Susan Evans.”

“Oh!” Even in the glow of warm-white low energy lights, the receptionist turned pale. “I’ll just get the manager.” She scurried off.

The manager, Mrs Partridge, came quickly. “Come into this sitting room, please. Would you like some tea, coffee?”

“Well, what we’d like is a shower, then dinner, but… is there a problem?”

Mrs Partridge paused, fiddling with her fingers. She took a breath as if to speak, then let it out again. Then, “can I just check? You went out earlier, after it had finished snowing, went for a walk, and you’ve just come back?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?” Pete was getting cross.

“How to explain…have you noticed the change in the weather?”

“Yes, weird how quickly it changed, but we do have weird weather these days.” Sue put in.

“Yes,” Mrs Partridge said, “but that snow lasted a week, and you didn’t come back that night, so we called out the police and search and rescue and everything.”

“But…”

“You’ve been listed as missing persons for the last couple of months.”

Pete and Sue stared at her. Eventually Pete said, “you’re kidding.”

The landlady got up. “I’ll just get my file and show you.”

Sure enough, the file contained copies of police reports, and a stack of press cuttings.

“I think I’d better phone Sgt Alyson and tell her you’ve been found. And we’ll find you a room, and get your things out of store. And you can finish your break if you wish. But I expect the police will want to interview you.”

“Can we shower and have dinner first?”

“Yes of course.”

Sgt Alyson came to see them after their dinner. She asked where they had been, and showed them a photo of the mill. “This is where we lost your tracks. There was absolutely nothing to indicate where you’d gone, no secret tunnels, mine shafts, anything. And no tracks in the snow.”

“But the snow had gone, which was why we left.”

“Naturally, we checked our past missing persons records. It’s just procedure. There are two other instances we’ve had of people missing for months, having gone for a walk in that forest, and turning up later as if nothing had happened. Here…” she showed them a couple more press cuttings. 

“…we just stopped to take photos in the mill, and carried on…” Pete read out. 

“Yes, they were missing four months. You’ve been…. Eight weeks and four days. Look, you’re probably tired, and I need to talk to my supervisor, but I think it best if we try to keep this quiet, unless you are going to have problems with bosses or something when you go home. Shall I come and chat to you tomorrow afternoon, give you a chance to adjust?”

In the end, everything was kept very low key. The only person who had really missed them was their cat, and the cattery had looked after her very well. “Just glad you weren’t seriously injured,” the cat lady said when they collected her.

The mystery of the mill remained. Sgt Alyson phoned them with further updates. The mill seemed to be the place every missing person had in common. “We are considering applying for demolition, but it’s a heritage structure. And if news gets out that there’s something, oh, paranormal about it, then we’ll be overrun with nutters. But thank you for all your help, and your discretion.”

Pete and Sue often discuss what might have happened to them. But no harm was done, as it was the closed season for their business. Just the back room stuff didn’t get done.

But Pete now always takes paper maps on their expeditions, and they never take shelter in mills.

© J M Pett 2024