One of the great things about Friday Fictioneers is that it directs us to think about things we have done, things we have seen or heard and things we have read. The photo this week reminded me of ‘The Mill’ – by the American poet Edwin Arlington Robinson – an evocative piece of writing that, together with the photo prompt, has inspired my story this week.
If you would like to become a part of Friday Fictioneers, the weekly group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, do use the link to her blog and let the photo prompt challenge you to produce a 100 word piece of flash fiction! It’s a great way to get involved in writing.
He hesitated at the door, as if reluctant to leave. For a long moment, his gaze rested on her.
“There are no millers now,” he said. The door closed behind him.
It had grown late. The meal was cold. The fire had gone out. With his words tearing at her heart, she set off through the deepening gloom.
Stepping into the mill, she stared through the emptiness inside.
She turned away from the dark shape hanging from a beam and sought comfort elsewhere. Whispering his name, she slipped into the weir and let the cold, black water embrace her despair.