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OUR WONDERFUL TEAM MEMBER, AUTHOR LORRAINE CAREY, MEETS THE FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE TODAY, WITH HER SHORT EERIE STORY, 'THE CALL OF LANTERMAN'S MILL' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat

Updated: 2 minutes ago



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The Call of Lanterman’s Mill by Lorraine Carey


When Adele Landers called her friends Kristen and Maribel about their study group location, they didn’t even have to ask - of course, it would be Lanterman’s Mill in Mill Creek Park. Adele always chose it. Her friends found her fascination strange, given that it was where her mother, Mia, had drowned when Adele was just four. But Adele insisted the place brought her peace - it was the last place her mother had been alive.


Aunt Helen, who had raised her, told the story often: a picnic with friends after a rainstorm, a slip into the creek while posing for a photo. But rumors had swirled - whispers of drunkenness, foul play, and the strangest of all, a portal hidden in the waters. Locals had always dismissed it as a tragic accident.


Kristen and Maribel knew the legends about the old grist mill: ghostly figures seen along the banks since the 1800s, unexplained drownings. They never spoke of it to Adele - it was too personal - but the place unsettled them.


That morning, Adele pulled on gym shorts, grabbed her backpack, and padded into the kitchen. Aunt Helen already had coffee and homemade sweet rolls waiting.


“Off to your study group?” Helen asked.

“Yes, Auntie. Big history test this week.”

Helen’s smile was warm, but her tone was cautious. “Be careful, Adele. There’ve been strangers hanging around that park. You’re a pretty girl—just like your mama at your age.”

“Oh, Auntie, we have our phones, and my friends are with me.”

Helen’s eyes softened. “Never go there alone.”


Adele simply nodded, keeping her secret—she often went alone. The mill had always felt like it was calling to her.


Helen stood at the window, apron in hand, as Adele’s old Mustang pulled away. She dabbed her eyes that had welled with tears.


Adele arrived early, wanting thirty minutes to herself before the others. The sweet scent of oaks hung thick in the air as she spread a blanket by the bank. She closed her eyes to meditate, but the creek’s usual murmurs were louder today - almost like whispers.


Then came the sound of a lullaby. Soft. Familiar.

“Kristen? Maribel?” she called. No reply.


While she was listening, her phone buzzed with a text she didn’t see:


Maribel’s sick. My car died - waiting for my dad.

I’ll text when I’m on my way.


Love, Kristen ♥️


A swirl of mist rose from the water. Two feet high, swaying. Adele rubbed her eyes. It hummed, circling, then stilled - forming into a delicate figure with tiny wings and the face of a young woman.


“I am your mother, my dear,” the apparition said, emerald eyes locking with Adele’s.

“That’s impossible. You drowned here.”

“That’s what you were told. I came here because the creek called to me long ago, as it calls to you. This is where I belong - with my Sprite family.”

“Sprite?” Adele repeated.

“Water spirits. We guard sacred places like this portal. And you, Adele, are one of us.”


Adele’s mind reeled, but the lullaby rooted her in place. She remembered it now - her mother’s song from childhood.


“I’ve been with you each time you came here,” Mia said. “I waited until you were ready to join me. But once you cross, you can never return. The portal is closing soon—this is your last chance.”

“What about Aunt Helen?”

“She knows. She’s been waiting for you to come home to me.”

The wind lifted, curling around Adele like unseen hands. Her mother drifted toward the waterfall, voice fading. “Time is almost gone. You’ll know what’s right.”


The melody swelled through Adele’s chest. She stepped forward—and the current seemed to take her, carrying her into the mist.


An hour later, Kristen finally arrived. Adele’s blanket and backpack lay by the bank, but no Adele. Blue bubbles shimmered over the creek’s surface, dancing before fading into nothing.


Kristen sat down to wait, thinking Adele had wandered off. But after another hour, worry crept in. She called Aunt Helen, ready to involve the police, but Helen’s voice was unnervingly calm:


Don’t worry, dear. She’s exactly where she’s meant to be.


Kristen hung up, a chill running through her. The creek lay still, sunlight glinting off water that looked impossibly clear.


**********


COMING SOON: On Wednesday, 24th September, our guest author is Elke Feuer, who will be sharing an excerpt from her novel, 'The Trouble With Soulmates'.

 
 
 
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