Rope

Above the door

Chiseled roughly

A few words

“To appease Them what live below”

Coils wound round gears of wood

Pulling and groaning in protest

What was its purpose precisely?

I followed the hemp cordage

But always it moved farther

Deeper within the mill

Below the basement

Before reappearing

Now slick with something oily

And fatty in smell and feel

This mystifying contraption

This horrible machine

Ground away at something unseen

And just behind this noise

I was just cognizant of

A distant and harried cry

From those untouched depths

The sobs of a woman

The squeals of a pig

Melded and twisted

All I could think

Was the farmer’s words

“My wife’s the one

Who works the mill

I’ve not seen her

For a few nights now”

What had she wrought?

What had she aimed to mollify?

What in God’s name lay below us now?

Thumbnail Source: https://www.deviantart.com/4ddesigner/art/Old-mill-252991403