Post 1417 Thursday January 5
My Daddy's a miller. He takes bundles of long grass into his windmill and makes it into it into flour and Mummy turns it into bread and buns. I can’t go inside, not until I’m older because Daddy says it’s dangerous. I love watching the sails going round and round. I wave and they wave back.
If I tell you something, promise not to laugh like my horrid brother does. Promise? Well, fairies live in Daddy's windmill. I know because sometimes I see them riding on the sails. Round and round they go, covered in flour and sometimes it makes them sneeze.
I smell cake. Coming?
A big thank you to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Sandra Crook for the picture.