“The Windmill: A Meeting in One Voice”

The windmill, you say? It’s not far up the path there. An hour’s easy walk through the woods and up the hill. Mind you don’t stray off into the dale on either side. Nothing but bad there. That’s where they throw the waste — the spoiled chaff from…

You don’t need me to tell you, do you, young sir? You’re on a quest, I can see! Who is it, set to be ground? Sibling, mayhap? A lover? Had to be someone important to bring you this far from the city. Yes, I see you’re city folks. Ain’t hard. Your clothes are sharp and clean. Your hands don’t have scars. All your fingers. Your face isn’t old like mine, not beaten by the winds that push those haunted blades. That’s a new weapon on your hip, too. So who? You’ve got time. Trust me. The mill don’t grind fast, so we say. You’ll get there in more than enough time for…

What’re you going to do, exactly? Bargain? Offer a trade? Soul for soul? The miller don’t trade. Each one as falls on his grinding stone is there special, for a purpose. There’s a reason for all, as we say. Even death and the long grind of the soul on the miller’s stone. They’re his now. Don’t think that weapon will convince him neither, but…you’re gonna try anyhow.

Well. God’s own fortune to you! Hope not to see you again. Hope I see…whoever you’re going after.

I’ll tell ’em you were brave.

I hadn’t intended for this to be a monologue nor for the title to be quite so pretentious, but here we are. Sometimes a story sounds best when done a certain way and the title fits pretty well. I’m not going to worry about either one, especially because I like how it all turned out! So there.

Play along with the prompt here.

(Photo Credit: Boke9a on Pixabay)