The Murderous Mill

  • October 14, 2015

11224056_979949038743767_8100661502180237882_nWe live in this ass-backwards society where its perfectly acceptable to blame inanimate objects for the actions of stupid people. For instance: Guns shoot people. Spoons make people fat. Pencils misspell words. Cars drive drunk. And now, this one–this is an instant classic–historic mills throw themselves into the road and impale speeding cars. I mean, seriously? Somebody had better flatten those damned mills before someone else gets hurt. As a matter of fact, I know of a couple trees that are repeat offenders and must be chopped down before they kill again.

Just the other night, I was driving home from my parents house and discovered that a local road had been blocked off by emergency personnel. Out of curiosity, I took a little detour and discovered that a particularly sinister, old mill had (been) struck again.

Mills–much like sports teams, rescued pets, and small-town eateries–change names when they change owners. This mill had been owned by fourteen different individuals over the course of two-hundred-and-fifty years. John Bracken was the first recorded owner in 1768–thus, I often refer to this mill as Bracken’s Mill. Though, it would most likely answer to: McGrew’s Mill (1782), Wierman’s Mill (1787), Godfrey’s Mill (1792),  Myers’ Mill (1808), Wolford’s Mill (1841), Stambaugh’s Mill (1871), Stitzel’s Mill (1899), Hayberger’s Mill (1900), Paxton’s Mill (1901), Group’s Mill (1906), Ricker’s Mill (1919), Mummert’s Mill (1925), and Ernst’s Mill (1925-1944).

According to the local news station, Bracken’s Mill had been charged with throwing itself into oncoming traffic for the second time in a few short months. My question is: How could we allow this to happen? How could we allow this historic mill to just sit on the corner of Mill Rd. and Mountain Rd–ready to pounce on speeding drivers who happened to miss the giant yellow arrows and the posted speed limit of 35MPH? The bottom line is that the mill needs to be put down. The mill is a hazard to poor drivers all across Latimore Township.

Now, before you start to feel sorry for this mill–imagine that the next time, the mill attacks someone who is texting and driving? Maybe the mill decides to flatten a drunk driver? These are all perfectly plausible scenarios that need to be taken into account before we make any rash decisions and give the mill any grace. Would rumble strips stop these drivers? Probably not. Would a guard rail stop these drivers? Unlikely. Perhaps, we need a few extra yellow “THERE’S A SHARP TURN AHEAD, IDIOT” signs? Nope. At this point, our options are limited.

11885339_1668719363363844_8880240928352050503_nI should also mention that the mill just celebrated its 250th birthday. If the mill were a dog, we would’ve already put the poor thing out of its misery. Nobody likes old dogs, anyway. At 250 years, I’d imagine that the mill is well past its prime. How sturdy could those stone walls and hand-hewn beams be after 250 years? Not to mention, the front door–which is branded with the names of previous owners–looks a little crooked when I drive by. That crooked door could be a hazard to trespassers and vandals. They could easily get hurt when they pry it open. In that case, we would have no choice but to blame the mill for any inflicted harm to these intruders.

In my opinion, we should just knock the damned thing down. Especially since we’re already on a mission to destroy history–banning the confederate flag, sandblasting monuments, digging up dead people who were on the wrong side of the war. (The Civil War… the one that happened a hundred-and-fifty years ago. You remember?)

Don’t even get me started on this ridiculous crusade to save history. Who needs history anyway? I need history almost as much as I need that grammar they forced down my throat in school…. Feeling your nuts? Feeling you’re nuts? Who cares?


The damage after the first incident–which occurred after 12AM and didn’t leave any skid marks on the road. The mill was responsible for killing this man.



Where the water wheel had been.






The poor souls enslaved by the mill in the early 1900s.