THE MILLS OF GOD

THE MILLS OF GOD

Each of Dusty Miller's first two wives had drowned in the mill-race. Tragic accidents, he claimed – they’d slipped on the steps whilst drawing water – but his temper was legendary and people had seen the bruises. 

After failing to find a third wife locally, he settled for a woman he met in the town tavern.

The first time Dusty raised his fist she ducked. The second time she struck back. There never was a third time. Somehow his smock became trapped in the machinery – they had to scrape him off the wheel to bury him.

Missus Miller III was strangely dry-eyed at his funeral.

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'The mills of God grind slowly / Yet they grind exceeding small / Though with patience He stands waiting, / With exactness grinds He all '  

On seeing this week's prompt photo, the 'Mills of God' sprang instantly to my mind - If you've never heard the quote, this link will explain it.  http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/2000/l/long52.html

Thanks to https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for hosting Friday Fictioneers. a link from her blog will take you to a list of other FF writers whose 100 word stories were also prompted by Sandra Crook's photograph..

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL THE KIND PEOPLE WHO READ AND COMMENT ON MY BLOG.

IF IT HAPPENED NOW

IF IT HAPPENED NOW - A STORY FOR CHRISTMAS

“What’s up, babe? Your latte’s getting cold.”

“I’ve gone off coffee, Joe – get me an orange juice instead.”

Joe returned from the counter wearing a worried frown, “You’ve been moody all week and now you’ve gone off coffee – are you breaking up with me?”

Mary couldn’t meet his soft brown eyes. “You might want to dump me when I tell you – I’m having a baby.”

“I’m going to be a dad? That’s brilliant!”

“It’s not yours.” The words dropped like a stone between them and Joe leapt up so violently that other customers stared. “Whose is it then? I thought you loved me.”

Mary shrugged helplessly. “I do love you, Joe, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“You mean someone forced you? I’ll bloody kill him!”

“It wasn’t like that. This angel turned up and told me God’s been watching me and decided I’m the right one to have His baby. The angel said this baby will save the world one day.”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Joe’s voice dripped scorn.

Mary shrank back in her seat, her hands protecting her belly, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself, but it’s the truth. I’m dreading telling Mum and Dad.”

Joe sat down slowly and wiped her tears with his calloused carpenter’s thumbs, “I can’t deny it’s a bit of a shock, Mary,” he said gently, “But I love you and we’ll work it out.” He grinned suddenly. “I’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Written for no particular reason other than the need to do so! Leave a comment if you'd like to, and I wish you a very Happy Christmas. Thank you for staying with me and reading my blog through the year. Lizy.

CITYSCAPE - Flash Fiction in 100 words

CITYSCAPE

From sixty storeys aboveground I’m a god, surveying the pointless life below.

Before daybreak traffic began poisoning the air – no wonder there’s no sign of green anywhere. People poured out of subways and scurried along pavements to spend hours behind glass producing nothing of value.

I used to live down there, taking pride in my skill at ducking and diving to earn a crust while staying out of trouble. But no more – now it’s time to end it.

I move closer to the edge and leap off ...... then spread my wings in the clean air and soar away to the forest.

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The above photograph taken by Marie Gail Stratford was posted by Rochelle on her blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for Friday Fictioneers. 

You can follow the lik on her blog to read other writers' takes on the prompt - after you've commented on mine, please!

And here, for your delectation, is a photograph I took last night outside my home.  

THE WORD - Flash fiction in 100 words

THE WORD

One candle illuminated the small cave, giving just enough light for the priest to read. Shadowy figures listened intently to his words, which were all the more precious for being forbidden, but then the lookout hissed. Instantly the flame was extinguished, but too late – hatred and bloody violence contaminated their place of worship.

Yelling men herded them into a truck, leaving the priest’s battered body in his church. Looking back as they were driven away, a woman cried, “They are burning the Holy Book!” but her father said, “We need no Book, daughter – God writes His Word in our hearts.”

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Another photo from http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ prompted me to write this story for Friday Fictioneers . Do follow the link on her page to read some of the others.

GOD - 100 word fiction

GOD

After the Apocalypse, scavengers roamed the city streets and country ways, sniffing out every last body, and cockroaches feasted on putrefaction.

Finally all machines – even computers – died from lack of fuel, and the only sounds were the buzzing of insects, the cries of birds and animals, and the rustle of plants reclaiming the land.

When the air was sweet again, the God of Rebirth unlocked the underground chambers, and as the Chosen Few stood blinking in the sunlight He spoke sternly.

“I am God. This is my world and your last chance to live peaceably. Don’t screw it up.”

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Thanks again to http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ for the photo prompt for this week's flash fiction. Follow the links to read some of the other offerings from Friday Fictioneers.