Olly Buckle

Jack the Miller’s Son ,

Once upon a time there was a man who was a miller and he and his wife had a son called Jack. This was not long, long ago because that was before people had invented windmills, but it was once upon a time quite a fair while ago, before any one thought about schooling for anyone but the very religious.
As a little boy Jack stayed at home with his mother and they did the household chores together, in those days these were much harder because there were no machines or cleaning chemicals, on the other hand there was nothing else much either, bathrooms didn’t need cleaning, wooden floors could be swept, and clothes were not changed very often. As they were working she would teach him the rhymes and chants and games she had learned as a little girl.
Things like-
One two three four five
Once I caught a fish alive
Six seven eight nine ten
Then I let it go again
Why did you let it go?
Because it bit my finger so
Which finger did it bite?
This little finger on my right.
They didn’t do the wheels on the bus because they didn’t have buses, but they did “Horsey, horsey don’t you stop” and “I went to market and I bought” and lots of others you know, and some we have never heard. Jack and his mother enjoyed their time together and it passed quick as thinking until, one-day, Jack’s father came home from work, looked at him and said “That boy is growing fast, it’s time I took him in to work with me. He can start to learn men’s work and how to make a living in the world. I’m a bit busy this week but I’ll take him in with me next Monday and we’ll see how it goes.” Each night that week Jacks father came home and told Jack about work at the mill. It was a busy week and, tired, he tended to the negative, how important it was to remember everything if you were going to keep the mill running at a profit, to keep food on the table. If you didn’t count your sacks in and out carefully cheating farmers would rob you blind, if you failed to keep the great wooden bearings greased they would wear out, or worse catch fire and burn the mill down leaving the whole family destitute and dependant on the workhouse. Then there was the business of getting the mill up and running when it had been stood down for a while. Jack’s father explained that the whole mill turned on a great wooden post at it’s centre and that the vanes had to be brought round to face the wind, but that it was crucial whether one turned the mill to the left or right. It depended on the wind direction as the wind must never get behind the vanes or it would rip them from the face of the mill, they might look light and airy circling up there on the mill but they were framed in heavy timbers and woe betide anything in their way if they were brought down. Jack began to dread going to work with his Dad, it seemed one wrong move on his part might bring ruin down on the family. Finally the Monday morning came around, his father gave him one more admonition about this being “Real men’s work”, and they set off.
Of course Jack was so wound up and anxious that he got everything wrong and the more he got wrong the more his dad got wound up and angry and the more wound up and angry he got the more Jack got wound up and anxious and the more mistakes he made until, finally, it all came to a head. They were stood outside preparing to move the mill round. “We are going round to the right” his father said, and because Jack was facing him he thought that must mean to his left and started pushing the wrong way. His dad lost it and screamed at him “You stupid boy can’t you tell left and right, hold your hands out in front of you” and when he did slapped his hands shouting “Left” and “right” again and again as he did so. “Now will you remember” he shouted. This was the last straw for Jack who had never been shouted at and he burst into tears. His dad got very angry, called him a crybaby who should still be with his mother, marched him straight off home and left him there. After a few days life began to get back to normal for Jack and one evening after he had brought in the wood and the water he was making up the fire in the kitchen and as he worked gently sang to himself the one two three four five song. As he finished he shook the little finger on his right hand as he said the words, looking up he realised that his father was watching him. “So you know it” said his father. “Were you just out to make a fool of me or did you think it would be a softer option at home with your mother than doing a proper days work in the mill?” His voice had been rising as he spoke and Jack, remembering the slapped hands, was terrified and speechless. This was the point where his mother stepped in. An astute woman she had got most of the facts about what had happened at the mill from Jack and his father without them realising they had told her. She had seen the state Jack was in the week before and what she had not been told she had guessed. She had been waiting for the right moment for some time and now she was as precise and merciless as a surgeon extracting a cancer.
She told Jack’s father that he was a bully, how he was a bully, and why, in her estimation, he was a bully, she demonstrated to him that bullying was not a useful tool for teaching “look at you now sitting there, looking uncomfortable and feeling sorry for yourself for no good reason, just because I am telling you a few home truths, I know I’m a bit angry but I’m no threat to you like you are to Jack, you need to listen and learn. In some ways you two are just like each other,” Jack and his father glanced at each other and she knew she had to weld an alliance between them. “You handle him badly and are hard with him because you are anxious for him and want him to do well, he is clumsy and stupid because he is worried about trying to please you.” Jack and his father looked at each other. “Then there is the way you have been winding him up about the great importance of men’s work, do you know he has drawn and carried every drop of water for this house in the last year. It may not have taken a lot of skill but we would be dead without it, and anyway”, she continued, getting fully into her flow as she saw the effect, “and anyway what is so special about what men make, your precious flour wouldn’t be much good to you without me to bake it, I’ve seen your attempts at cooking.” She added with a final touch of scorn, and then in a more friendly tone “I know it is important but I think you could take some lessons from other people, knowing how to run a mill is not the same thing as showing someone. I never had to smack him when I showed him things, mostly he didn’t behave badly because he was interested. If he was naughty I told him I did not like it, and why, and either left him or sent him away. He soon came begging pardon to renew the conversation, don’t harbour resentment, welcome him back with love, he is your son, it can’t be hard.” Jack’s father was not a stupid man or a bad man, he saw the truth in what was said, apologised to Jack and told him how much he wanted to share his world with him. Would he come back to work with him? Jack spent many happy hours working with his father in the mill. He did not become a miller when he was grown but the lessons he learned served him well in what he did do.

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Zorell

This is, well very insightful. It should realy be in a pamphlet for abusive parents and guardians.

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Life is lighter when you shed your leaves,
better when you nurture your branches,
and more fulfilled when you strengthen your roots.

Olly Buckle

It seemed a bit too obvious and "preachy" to me but I wasn't sure because I knew where it was going before it got there, I guess your comment confirms it really, the bit I liked best was about the sails getting ripped off if the wind got behind them, a good metaphor there of something large and airy looking, as long as it is used correctly, that in fact imparts a lot of power and is very heavy.

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Tiamat10

The paragraphs toward the end were a little long and the sentences in them a little long-winded. It's just that after a few of those sentences, I felt as though I should take a deep breath from rambling on for several minutes without stopping to breathe.

This one, for example.

But other than that, I thought this was a cute little story. It certainly held my attention well, and it had a nice moral to it.

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"I'm a woman, we never say what we want. But we reserve the right to be pissed off if we don't get it." - Sliding Doors

Olly Buckle

That is a bad fault of mine Tiamat10, I am getting better, the first story I wrote was just about all one long sentence. Dead right, splitting the one you gave as an example at the 'and's would add to the tension and anger. The moral is what made me write it in a traditional style, but it still feels heavy handed to me,

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