Untouchable

[ 01 ]

     ℑ𝔱 was a dark morning, the sky was a dreary grey, the clouds filtering the warmth of the sun into cool lighting. Foretelling a storm, the air was stiff and silent. There was barely a chirp of a bird, not a squeak of a rodent. Not even a buzz of an insect! The slight breeze of the wind moved the green leaves on the trees, still making no sound.

The only noise that could be picked up, was that of the man-made mill with the grunting of a singular man who carried heavy bags of grain into the small shack. His arms flexed with each bag that he picked up, to and fro he made visits to where a bundle of sacks were, bringing them to the mill where he would grind them. Then he would spend the rest of the day grinding them past the point where his arms got tired and aching. After that, he would put the finished buckets and sacks of those who came to him with their grains aside. From there, he would bring his buckets of grain home where his wife would bake some of them into loaves to sell, leaving some to use for themselves and the other portion to set aside to sell with the loaves. Only then would he go to sleep late in the night, far after the time his children had already gone to sleep.

It would have been easier if he had a wind or water powered mill. Alas, he did not. He was too poor to afford anything like that. He had only inherited the mill from his father who had gone bankrupt years ago when the miller was still in his childhood, meaning the older man couldn't upgrade it either. Because of this, he couldn't see his children most of the week and barely his wife either. Especially when they were busy themselves, harvesting the grain that grew near their home. The only time he could see his kids is when they came to help him or play around the mill. More often than not, they had not wanted to help as they were still young and wanted to avoid having to carry heavy things so they could be able to play, not rest with aching limbs.

A forlorn sigh left the roughened man's lips as the breeze picked up, cooling his sweaty body down as he carried one of the last bags to the mill. Prickling tainted his back, the little hairs on him standing up. He thought nothing of this and continued to the entrance of his dilapidated mill.

Down the path to the mill was a figure he had missed. A tall, lanky masculine figure cloaked in black clothing making them look similar to a shadow. They would've been easily mistaken for one if it wasn't for the red stripe on their tunic that gave them away.

As the miller was inside, the figure grew closer and closer to the unsuspecting building. The breeze grew stronger, the leaves finally making noise, rustling and singing as they swept against each other. Howbeit, no animal made a peep. They kept themselves in hiding, predicting what dreadfulness was to come.

The miller walked back from out of his mill to retrieve the last bag. He grunted upon picking it up, turning back to the shack to make his last trip. A sickly feeling pierced his body. This time, he had almost paid it attention. It felt like...danger. A sensation that screamed to run away, but coaxed him into warmth at the same time.

The wind howled as it increased, the end of his cap threatening to wrap around his head and smack him in the face because of it. Still, it didn't bother him. He welcomed the heavy breeze, if only it didn't storm. He feared that it was going to, so he had to do his job quicker than normal. There was a damage in the rooftop that would cause a leak near where he would grind.

"It must be hard." A voice, smooth, deep, and crackly spoke, causing him to jump.

He peered at who had talked to him out of nowhere, the feeling of enticing danger overwhelming him. Try as he might, he couldn't catch a glimpse of the person's face. Hanging around their black hat was a dark veil, one that he couldn't put together any features that were barely peeking through. Veils would normally be transparent enough to see through, but this one was near opaque.