The Mill

Thunder boomed over head echoing in the almost silent morning sky. There was no rain but the air crakled with blue electric energy. The black clouds above rolled everywhich way like a sea overhead. How long have I been working here?Thought Alexandra. Ever since she could remeber was the answer, just like the rest of her family. The mill had seen countless generations of Spire and she was well recognized amidst her co-workers for it," A powerful name to posess." they would tell her though she had no clue what would make them say something like that, it seemed odd.

Break was almost finished, she should have head back in to work soon. She was just a clean up kid,not as glorious as her father's or grandfather's possitions but at least she was woking fufilling her families tradition. Normaly the oldest son would work at the mill as his father had. But her father had died before he could produce a son, so Alexandra felt it was her duty to work to keep tradition alive. It wasn't unheard of for women to work at the mill but it was traditionaly a male dominated job.

The buzzer rang inside, echoing through out the maze of metal. Sighing she left her lunch and walked back to her post. She walked past a few lifers on her way. They greeted her but she only nodded at them in acknowlegement. Then she walked by Mark Davik.

"Hi Alexandra."
"Hi Mark."
"I didn't see you in the lunchroom again, where were you?"
" I like to eat alone, you know it's just much quieter.
"Right." He didn't seem convinced
"Well maybe next break I can come find you."
"Maybe," She gazed around the metal catwalk," Have you seen Jag?"
Jag was her supervisor and a Millright.
" No, I havn't."
"K, then bye."
"Bye"

She left him to his work and set off. She found Jag in the Millright room. He was tall like every Millright and had blood red bags under his sunken eyes. The little hair he had left was silver under his Blue hard helmet.His skin was streached tightly over his face reviling the shape of the skull undernieth. The Millrights had given her the creeps befor but she had gotten used to thier zombie like looks and black tared Millright bandages clung tightly to thier skeletal body.

" I've finished cleaning convayer belt B-23 what's next sir?"
Jag drew a deep rattling breath and spoke in a voice as smooth as sand paper," Move on to the lower deck and take your time, with the tugboat strike a new shipment might not arrive for weeks."
She nodded," I herd that one might come in tonight though?"
She made it a queston, it wasn't wise to angar a millright.
"That is correct, it is the last shipment till the strike ends now go!"
She left at a brisk pace, she headed for the lower deck with shovel, a javelen and some cleaning solution.

Her boots clanged on the catwalk. Even deep in the metal catacombs of the mill she could hear the violent storm start to pick up outside. She reached the lower deck. It was about as big as a football field with holding cells on eaither sides. The wooden floor of deck was stained red with many centuries of blood seeping down from above. Sighing she started spraying cleaning solution. It smelt very strong so she put on her breathing mask and begain slowly spraying the deck down with a hose she had gotten from the wall. It took her well over an hour to clean the deck while the storm tampered with the lights making them flick eeirily. When the entire length had been sprayed down it looked slightly better but it was still stained. She wrapped the hose back up and sat in the middle of the deck crosslegged.

There was a noise. It startled her and she got up to her feet fast. She held her shovel as a weopen before her. She scanned the cells in front of her. The noise had defently come from there. "It was only a mouse, just a mouse," she told herself as she moved down the length of cells, somethig small easy to," hands thrust out of the bars she was infront of and grabbed her neck. Easily wrapping them all the way around. Pulling her into the bars with a heavy clang. Alexandra herd a crack as well, wincing in pain she looked up through the bars.

A very old man was holding her off the ground, something a very old man shouldn't be able to do. His hair was matted and pure white all the way down to his sholders. His eyes were the deepest shade of ice blue she had ever seen. He had few teeth and breath that made her eyes well with tears. His face resembled that of a millright but it wasn't the dead pasty color of one. This one had life in him still. Trying to cringe away and still not soffacate she tried to wriggle away.

"Give me the keys!" he demanded with a harsh angry voice
Alexandra's face was blue with lack of oxygen and only managed a squeek. He slammed her against the bars again" Give me the Keys!" he spat. "I don't have them." She managed. Her eyes were bulging out of her skull. His grip tightend in frustration then he let go. Gasping for breath she fell to the ground rubbing her throat. The man walked to the back of his cell. He was enveloped in darkness again and she could only hear small ruffling noises.

Chest heaving she gulped down air. Slowly she pulled herself to her feet never taking her eyes off the pitch black cell the old man had vanished in.
Backing up to the center of the lower deck she grabbed her javlen, normaly used to prode jammed pieces logged in the conveyer, and held it like a spear. "Put it down." the man commanded. Olddly she started lowering it but pulled it up again and advanced.

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A Tug boat is a bit of an understatment thought Jacob Lighter as he sat in the corner of what looked like a rusty old frieghter full of human cargo. He was shakled at the wrists and ankles. The walls of the frighter were high and would be imposable to climb if he wern't shakled. There were small port holes in the sides that offered a few of the river, the river was like none Jacob had ever seen it was so whide he couldn't see the shore but so calm the serface was like black/blue glass. He only found out it was a river from a conversation he'd herd from the gaurds over head. They'd metioned something about a mill ahead and since mill were only placed on rivers Jacob assumed it was a river. Though which river and where he didn't know.

Jacob was ingnored but the throng of shakled people in the boat. A pitaful hopeless group. Most of thier clouths were torn, ragged or stainned with various bodily fluids. All of them were crying, calling out for loved ones, isolated like himself, or staring blankly with the empty. [i]It's like a f****** zombie movie Jacob smirked briefly at this thought. Not one Zombie had bothered him as of yet, which was fine by him. Jacob was alway more comfortable as a loner with few friends. Curious, he could remeber facts about himself but not how he had come to be in this god forsaken place[i] This thought disterbed him imensly.

In the early hours of the voage he had woken up in a state of confussion and fear. It was still there he could feel it deep within his soul but he had managed to put it aside for ,at least some of his, rational thought. O.k He pondered rubbing his temples I'm on a boat,How I got here I don't know.We're on a river going to a mill. We might be press ganged into slavery or...The darker side of him thought we're the timber."Excuse me, Mister." A small girl stood infront of him. She was very small and couldn't have been know more then seven. Her red curled hair was matted to her forehead with blood. Thier was a gash across her lips, and her deep green eyes were stainned with tears.

Seeing Jacob look up at her made her rush forward, ristricted by her shackled ankles she tripped and fell into a pool of water befor him. Her tan little capries and torn open at the knee. The knee itself was bloodied. She looked down at it with those green eyes. They had no more tears left to give and she just stared down at her injury as if it were to be expected.

"Are you alright?"
She stared at him balefully," No" her voice was full of sorrow
"Can you help me find my mom?"
Jacob gazed out at the mass of Zombies
"Absolutly."
The girl's eye's flickered with joy for a moment, Just a moment.

if anyone actually does read my stories then the next addition to this will be posted soon after i discover why blaster deems it inapropriote so that it may continue

Good stuff Garrett I'm looking forward to the next part. I'm also working on my story but it might take a while

I'm getting some doubts about the appropriateness of this story in this section of the site.

At this moment, I have decided to not remove this story, but I'm watching. You may continue it if you desire, but be careful.

Hey Garrett! I love the story so far! I disagree with yoda here about his response, it may be a little bit violent but that adds all more to the suspence. I'm looking forward to hearing how it ends!

Hey Garrett, I'm lovin' the story, keep going! I want to know who the little girl is and what's going to happen between the girl cleaning the mill and the guy in shackles.... Auntie Karen :-)

She led him continuously through the heard of “zombies” calling out to him continuously,”Daddy! Daddy I’m lost!” then she would look up at him expectantly. Jacob rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. I’m in way to deep thought Jacob. He hated kids, he hated people, and there weren’t many things he liked. But for whatever reason something had changed within him since he awoke, and when he looked down in to her deep acid green eyes. Cursing again he called out half-heartedly”Dad.” But not nearly as loud as she.

They passed by an empty eyed murmuring women when she grabbed the little girl. She shook her wildly and made to bite her arm. Jacob instinctively threw his fist. It caught the women in the eye and she dropped like a sack of potatoes. Jacob felt a hand on his shoulder. Whirling around he threw another fist. But his hand was caught by a black bandaged hand. It was one of the men he’d seen earlier. Up close they were disgusting. It resembled a black tarred mummy.
Another materialized out of the floor and grabbed his other arm.



“These two still have life in them.” One said to the other.
There voices were whispers in the wind, he barley understood them.
“Bring them to the cells when we arrive.” The latter commanded.
The tug boat tremored and there was a crash.” We’ve docked,” they said in unison. There breeze like volume increased to a gust. The two”things” dragged both him and the small girl out of the boat. One of the massive walls had been lowered and more of the creatures were herding the zombies out.



Jacob had never given up without a fight, and he wasn’t about to now. He thrashed wildly in their arms. Left and right, elbowing their guts every chance he got. But to no avail; nothing seemed to affect them. They held on tight to their captives with seemingly super natural strength.


“I said put it down girl.” It was more of a growl then actual speech. Alexandra ignored him. The point of the deadly javelin shone dimly with its metallic luster. The old man didn’t seem particularly afraid of her, as he moved from the back of his small cell to meet her. She thrust through the iron bars to push him back and was shocked to find the man had stepped forward purposely to meet her.

Color drained from her face, she was used to the site of blood, you had to be to work here, but it wasn’t blood that spurted from his wound. In fact nothing spurted, Alexandra could see the wound but the blood, and pain it seemed had stayed inside his body. The old man smiled. He lunged to the back of her cell taking her weapon with him. He removed it with a sickening sound and brandished it at her. He gave a small sigh, winked at her and thrust forward. Pain shot through her thigh and intensified as he twisted and retracted it.

With a grunt he thrust again but Alexandra had fallen to the ground tears freely streaming from pain. She wormed her way out of his reach and put pressure on her wound. The man ran at the bars tying to knock them away. A shape manifested itself within the shadows. “Alexandra,” Jag hissed from the darkness,” tend to your wound on your break! Go meet the shipment millwrights!”

Alexandra panted with effort. It took her three times as long to get outside. She lifted her hand to her brow, only to find it drenched with sweat and blood. I must have cut my head against the bars. Her leg still bled freely but the flow was slower now. The wound was much deeper then she first assumed. The storm had passed its prime and now it slowly died with only the occasional burst of howling. “The screams of the dieing.” her father had once said. Down in the yard dozen’s of millwrights led “the broken”, as she called the ones without a hope, to their cells. Alexandra knew their fates. Her first day of work flitted into her mind.

“Alexandra?” it was Mark
“Yeah?”
“Are you O.K?” his face reflected genuine concern. It was painful to see brought up to many memories.
“Just a scratch.” She dismissed him, her voice wavering making the statement less convincing. She had to appear tough; this was a male’s job after all. She felt the need to impress them and not appear weak or else she would never be comfortable around her co-workers.
“No,” Mark replied,” Mentally. You looked like you saw a ghost.”
“Oh!” she blushed a little. Of course he wouldn’t ask about my leg, it was just a scratch. But when she looked down she knew it was a gouge. It must have escaped his notice.
She was about to end the conversation but kept talking unintentionally.
“Why did no one tell me about the prisoner?”
Mark raised an eyebrow,” Prisoner?”
“Yeah, in the lower deck cells.”
“There’s no one there,” he said it as a fact;” I cleaned up there yesterday.”
“Are you sure your alright?”
Alexandra was shocked, and on the verge of tears.
“He attacked me Mark!” she shrieked
Mark made no reply.
How could he be so inconsiderate!?
She rolled up her pant leg,” Look!” she yelled in frustration.
He looked at her leg blankly,” There’s nothing there.” He said calmly,” You should take the day off, I’ll talk to Jag.” And with that he was off.

Alexandra looked down at her leg. The wound was there, red, sore and throbbing.
Why would he ignore it? She pondered. He claimed to still love her every chance he got. “No,” she whispered to herself,” He can not love, none of them can.” Exhausted she sat down on the hand rail. Her feet dangled through the gap. She stared out at the stragglers. She was told to help but she managed to convince herself that by the time she got down the stairs into the yard they’d be done.

Looking down at them like a lazy bird getting ready for bed she spotted four millwrights dragging two captives. A small girl, she immediately felt a pang of regret for actions not yet passed, and a man. Both were struggling. They aren’t” broken” she observed.

The man struggled much more then the little girl who appeared to have worn herself out. He was skinny guy, no younger then eighteen but no older then twenty-two. He wore a black over coat and blue jeans, both were soaked with various liquids from his voyage. He facial features her crisp and angular and even from here she could make out the color of his eyes; they were a very light brown she assumed because yellow was impossible. His hair was about the same as hers; shoulder length. But his was black and very curly in contrast to her blonde straight hair. The horn sounded behind her making her leap in the air. Ears ringing she muttered,”Yabadaba doo!” She said aloud. Removing her helmet she descended the front steps. She crossed the yard and fumbled for her keys.

Her home was in the only residential area for at least eight hundred thousand kilometers. It was a small complex directly across from the mill. A clever marketing ploy by the owner mill, it ensured that “lifers” like her would always be “lifers”. Sadistic bastard! She had never met him, or even seen him, and she was sure that if she asked about him everyone else would say the same. He’s a ghost she thought as she turned the key in the lock. Before walking in she straightened the address numbers; 453. Satisfied she entered, felt the walls with her hands till she found the light switch. They hummed to life.

It was small, only two rooms, a bedroom and a bathroom. She headed for the latter and gave herself a good hard look in the mirror. Filth was her face at the moment so she turned and started running bathwater. It was lukewarm already, and she could see dirt, grim and blood already start washing from her person. She looked back in the mirror. Her heart skipped a beat, the door slowly closed and Jag stepped out from behind.

“You scared the shit out of me!”
“Indeed.” He hissed
“What the f*** do you want?”
“Your wound.” With that he grabbed her leg.
He was silent while he observed
“Satisfied?” she asked with malice
“Yes.” He turned then said over your shoulder” You have tomorrow off if you please.” He started walking away.
“Wait!” she called hastily,” I won’t need stitches or anything will I?”
“No,” he paused,” This is not a wound that can be healed with mere stitches.” His airy voice almost made it sound cryptic. She herd the front door open, she quickly followed,” Who was that prisoner?” He didn’t answer perhaps he didn’t hear her perhaps he didn’t care. He crossed the yard leaving Alexandra puzzled. She watched him disappear beneath the mill. Alexandra had goose bumps. Millwrights are not native to this place, they never left the mill, they never slept, and they bothered to check on employees like that. Something’s up. She thought. She returned to her bath, planning to go to bed immediately after.




Jacob had been thrown into a cell, the girl, whom he’d finally found a name for; Lindsey, was put in the same cell. Jacob had been at awe, gaping at the mass of twisted, stained metal. Most of which was an unmistakable shade of red. I knew it; he thought glumly, we are the lumber. The cell was no different they any other part of this gigantic mill: dark, dank, and bloodstained. Grimacing he took not that out of the entire area; every cell he could see, and the large wooden floor outside, that his happened to be the most blood soaked. The cells lined every side of the wooden floor, and were on two separate levels. Each barred cell no bigger then the smallest of cubicles and containing nothing but themselves.

“Jacob” came Lindsey’s small terrified voice.
“Light, remember I like to be called Light.”
“Light,” she said spoke slowly as if trying to wrap her tiny little mind around the concept.
“What?” he said not caring to show the frustration in his voice.
“I’m scared.”

Great! He thought help them once and they follow you like a beat puppy. Why did I help her? He could recall giving in to those helpless green eyes. They were like “hers.”

“We all are kid.”
“My daddy used to sing to me,” she whispered,” will you? Please.”

He was going to tell her to f*** off and comfort herself. That he wasn’t a good guy. But those eyes got the better of him.

It started in his throat; a low hum, but soon it grew to loud and vibrant tune. It was a song long forgotten to him. He could almost make out where the lyrics would go but could never actually remember the lyrics themselves. Lindsey slowly picked up on the tune, then they were both humming It was comforting her, Jacob could hear it within her, but his was as hollow as his soul, nothing more then an echo of what it used to be.

The old man hid in the shadows of his cell next to them. He sung the lyrics to their song under his breath carefully making sure they didn’t know he was there.” And then the morning after,” he sang,” one tin solider rides away.” The little girl seemed weary and fell asleep on the bloodied floor with ease, but the man remained awake for hours afterward. He couldn’t believe how lucky he had been to have found him. He could remember watching the millwrights drag him across the lower deck, the bewilderment he had felt as he exclaimed quietly to himself, “Light.”