#Old mill

[irishmansdaughter]

[sarasakyfreesoul]

Source of Black Timok - Pećura, Serbia.

[kafkasapartment]

Winter Mill, c. 1910. George Ames Aldrich. Oil on canvas.

[huariqueje]

The Old Mill  -  Jason Sacran

American, b. 1980 -

Oil on panel , 16 x 20 in.

[autumncottageattic]

mrgaryellis

[ramblesbiab]

sometimes all I need is to be a small town girl in 1960s pennsylvania who's worried about not being attracted to any of the boys in town. All the other gals are startin' to get hitched, after all, and mama's startin' to get on my back about not bein' able to find my special someone.

Things all change, though, when we take a trip out to Kennywood - money's tight on the ol' farm, but daddy wanted to surprise us after a good season. There's so many people in one place it nearly makes my head spin. It's not long before I'm split off from my parents, what with all my siblings tearing them every which way.

As if my nerves aren't on end enough, my body freezes right in place as I catch notice of a group of city gals. Hard to even tell they're gals - they're dressed in black, with short hair and tall boots. I gulp when one looks at me. She's - she's pretty. Not a type of pretty I ever seen before, but it's hard to call her anythin' else.

"Need something, doll?" she calls out of nowhere. Her group snickers as she kicks off the wall she was leanin' against and walks closer. My eyes whip up and down her obnoxious outfit. It's so - shiny. I wonder how it feels. "My eyes are up here, doll."

"I wasn't...," I start, but the issue is, I was. My cheeks go hot. I'd run but my feet are still stuck. "Sorry," I squeak.

"Never said it was a problem," she whispers. Her voice low and sweet like fresh honey, drippin' from her deep black lips. She steps even closer. Her group isn't laughin' anymore, but she is, right in my face.

"What do you want?" I cross my arms and puff my chest the best I can. Mama always tells me to be more confident in myself, otherwise the world will step all over me. Hard not to feel like I'm already bein' stepped on, though, as the gal throws her head back from laughin' even harder. "Rude."

"It's more rude to stare, doll."

"Well I think it's more rude to laugh in a stranger's face," I counter. Her eyes glimmer, and she reaches a hand up. Two fingers liftin' my chin. I gulp again.

"Oh yeah?" she asks. "So it'd be better if I wasn't a stranger, then?" My mouth hangs open a bit. Her jawline is so sharp. She nods, and once my head catches on to that fact, I find myself lookin' at the Old Mill.

I know gossip's a sin, but I've heard plenty a rumor about the Old Mill. Especially with gals like this. Gals who look like they've never worn a proper dress in their life and got their hair caught in a tornado. There's not one good reason for me to go with her. I should go find one of my younger siblings and take 'em on the carousel.

"I've never been on that," I whisper instead, my teeth tuggin' at my lower lip. I've never been this nervous. It's a fluffy kind of nervous, the kind other gals talk about feelin' around boys. Butterflies floatin' around my stomach and all that.

"Wanna change that?" She starts walking before I answer. I follow. Her group trails us, looking between each other and snickerin' to themselves. I could still run. Get the - pardon me - hell out of here, maybe even tell mama I'm sick.

For reasons I can't for the life of me figure out, I stay by the pretty gal's side. "What's your name?" I whisper.

"Call me Jackie," she grins. "Yours?"

"Lily," I answer. We're quiet for the rest of the line. Jackie loads into the boat first, rocking it slightly as her long legs try to fit in place. She nods me in.

We're - close. Real close. My seat's damp but I hardly notice as we're lurched forward. "Hey, easy now," she teases. "It's a bit of a rough ride. You better get used to it."

"Yeah." My thighs squeeze together. Darkness covers us both. The trickling of water is almost calming, but it's interrupted as she reaches out of the boat and starts holding at the wall. "You're not supposed to be out of the boat."

"I'll be back in a second, doll. Don't have to be so needy," she coos. I don't know what that means. I don't need anythin' from a gal like her. This is just - her showin' me a ride I hadn't been on. Then it sets in what she's doing, as our boat slows a crawl. "There we go."

I have no clue what to say. That's one half of the rumor true. My teeth find my lip again. I'm not thinkin' straight right now, not at all. This is a mistake. It has to be.

Not much I can do about it now. I turn to her. "So."

"So," she repeats. Her hand moves to my thigh. Before I can stop myself, a whimper leaves my throat. Oh lord. This isn't right. Mama raised me better then this, then to fall for a damn temptress. "You nervous?"

"I've never been on this," I breathe out. My body leans into hers. I look up into her eyes, inky but still glowing. "I've... I've never cared much for other rides here. Maybe this'll be the one I like."

Jackie laughs, kinder this time. "It better be." Her hand drifts up to the back of my neck, and she pulls me closer. Her breath on my lips. It's heavenly. "Do you want this, Lily?"

"I might." I touch her arm, teasin' up it slowly with a few fingers. "You think you can help me be sure?"

"Gladly," she smirks. Then it happens. Her lips on mine, warm and pillowy. My body tenses up all at once, then relaxes. This is beyond anythin' I've ever felt before. Her hand dives into my hair and I melt against it. "You like that, doll?"

"Uh huh," is all I can get out. Her other hand gets on me too. I know it's wrong, but goddamn does it feel right. I kiss her deeply, so deep our teeth clack and she laughs into my mouth.

I don't know what happens when the ride ends, but that doesn't matter now. The next few minutes belong to the darkness, and to the woman holding me tightly.

ahem

but anyway yeah, that would be cool.

[chaoticdesertdweller]

Mabry Mill, Floyd County, Virginia

Top pic- 1937 postcard

Middle pic- Black and white photograph of the Roanoke Appalachian Trail Club at Mabry Mill on the Blue Ridge Parkway in 1947.

Bottom pic- taken by me in 2021

[rowanphotographyagain]

old mill building in the woods

[oneleggedflamingo]

26.10-23

One of my faves. :3

- Vivera Rossi

[thebohemianloner]

Old Mill Preserve • Sciota, PA

[artbyzigzag]

Ruin by ./\/\/\/

Follow me and support my photography.

[kimberly40]

Spillway to Dellinger’s Grist Mill on Cane Creek Road in Bakersville in Mitchell County, North Carolina

[ragnarfredrik]

Frosty waterfall - Stampen, Norway

[aviationgeek71]

Looming over the endless chorus of the Muskingum River — derived from the Shawnee word Mshkikwam, meaning swampy ground — the Stockport Mill still stands watch over this once important water route into the interior of Ohio.

The original mill was built in 1842; however, the current structure was later erected in 1906, and is the last remaining mill along the Muskingum. While its function as a mill has long since ended, it still operates as a restaurant and inn.

Stockport, Ohio. August, 2022.

By @aviationgeek71

[blamseastore]

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