The Miller Report 08142025

    Greetings and Welcome! 
Hello and welcome to Miller’s Mysteries! The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and even the neighbor’s goats are curious enough to peek through the fence like tiny, judgmental tourists. 
 
Meanwhile, the cats are on patrol, squinting at the world from the windowsill. I’m looking forward to checking out the latest Senior Center show, catching an AMC movie, and finishing the day with mini-golf and patio dining around town. Stick around—you never know what local wildlife or mischievous goat might make a cameo in today’s story!

  • Across my Desk!!

Happiness is
seeing the little girl you once held in your arms become a strong, brilliant, compassionate and amazing Daughter 🥰❤️✨

I tried donating blood today… NEVER AGAIN!!! 🚫
Way too many ridiculous questions. 🙄
“Whose blood is this? 🤔” “Where did you get it? 🕵️‍♂️” “Why is it in a Tupperware tub? 🍱 Where’s the lid? 

Two lifelong buddies made a pact back in college:
No matter where life takes them, they’ll meet up every 10 years in Florida to play golf and grab lunch.
At 32, they meet up:
"Where you wanna eat?"
"Hooters."
"Why?"
"C’mon... the servers, the shorts, the legs!"
"Say no more." 😎
At 42, after their round:
"Where we eatin’?"
"Hooters."
"Again?!"
"Cold beer, big screen TVs, and sports betting!"
"Fair enough."
At 52:
"Hooters?"
"Yeah, food’s good and there’s lots of parking."
"Logical."
At 62:
"Hooters—wings are half off and the food’s not too spicy anymore."
"Perfect."
At 72:
"Hooters—they’ve got handicap spots close to the door and senior discounts!"
"Sold!"
At 82, they meet once again.
"Where to this time?"
"Hooters."
"Seriously? Why?"
"Because we’ve never been there before."
"Good idea. Let’s give it a try!" 😄


I've never played the bagpipes but I have carried a screaming three-year-old toddler over my shoulder.

My dad once told me that if I put a potato in my swim trunks, I would attract more women...
He forgot to tell me to put the potato in the front.

My only advice as someone who's doing it and done it for years, just raise animals for food, herbs for flavour and medicine, and forget the vegetables.
My motto is KISMIF - keep it simple, make it fun.


  • The Reader
  On a Sunday morning, Colleen found her usual spot at the sunny breakfast table, sunlight streaming through the window. She crafted a delicious smoothie bowl topped with granola and fresh fruit, the colors vibrant and inviting. With a cup of green tea beside her, she opened her laptop, which was already queued up to Mindmyst Tales Blog. 
  
  A clean notepad lay ready for her thoughts, pencil poised as she prepared to dive into her reading. The cheerful ambiance of her kitchen filled her with inspiration as she took a sip of her refreshing drink. Each story she read stirred her imagination, and she eagerly jotted down ideas for her future creations. Sunday mornings had become her sacred time for nourishing not only her body, but also her soul.
  
 • Maff of the Week

1. Campfire S’mores Geometry
Rick and Paige are building a circular campfire pit with a diameter of 4 feet. They want to place 12 logs evenly around the circle for seating.

    Question: What angle (in degrees) should each space between logs measure?
    (Hint: A circle has 360°.)

2. Canoe Race Algebra
Paige paddles a canoe downstream for 3 miles in 30 minutes, while Rick follows behind at a speed 2 mph slower.

    Question: How long will it take Rick to cover the same distance downstream?

3. Lemonade Stand Fractions
At a midsummer fair, Rick and Paige sell lemonade. They make 24 cups in one batch. On Monday, they sell 2/3 of the batch, and on Tuesday, they sell half of the remaining cups.

    Question: How many cups are left unsold after Tuesday?

4. Firefly Counting Probability
In a midsummer meadow, a jar can hold exactly 50 fireflies. Rick captures 30 fireflies, and Paige captures 40, but 20 are captured by both.

    Question: How many unique fireflies do they have in total?

5. Beach Volleyball Angle Problem
During a midsummer beach volleyball game, the ball travels in a straight line from Rick to Paige, 12 meters apart. Rick spikes the ball at a 45° angle.

    Question: If the ball hits the sand after traveling 12√2 meters, does it land exactly at Paige’s spot? Explain.


 • Now, This Week's Exciting Story

The Lake That Sings at Midnight

The air over Whispering Pines Camp was thick with the scents of pine sap, wood smoke, and the faint perfume of wild roses drifting from the far edge of the forest. Midsummer nights here were warm, but the heat broke just enough after sunset to make the lake feel like cool glass under the stars. Rick, leaning back on the bench near the fire pit, stared past the flicker of flames toward the water, watching it catch the moonlight like polished silver.

The group of campers was halfway through their third round of ghost stories when the sound came—soft at first, like the hum of wind in the trees. But it wasn’t the wind. It rose slowly into a trembling, high-pitched melody that seemed to float across the lake’s surface.

“That’s it,” whispered Paige, who sat across the fire from him, her marshmallow forgotten at the end of her stick. “That’s the song they were talking about.”

Rick had only arrived that morning, so the legend was new to him. Paige filled him in quickly—about the woman who had drowned here a hundred years ago, her lover never found. About how, on warm midsummer nights, the lake sang her grief back to the living, luring anyone who listened too closely toward the water.

Some of the older campers laughed it off, but Rick saw the way Paige’s eyes stayed fixed on the lake, the reflection of the moon turning her gaze a pale silver.

“You want to find out if it’s real,” Rick said quietly.

Her lips curved into a mischievous half-smile. “You’re not the type to back down from a dare, are you?”

Ten minutes later, they were pushing a canoe into the shallows. The campfire’s glow faded behind them, replaced by the vast, dark hush of the lake. The melody grew louder out here, weaving through the air, more beautiful than anything Rick had ever heard—and somehow unbearably sad. Paige sat at the bow, her hand trailing in the water, eyes searching the shadows.

“Sounds like it’s coming from the center,” she murmured.

They paddled toward the source, the lake rippling softly around them. That’s when Rick saw the eyes—two glowing orbs breaking the surface ahead, unblinking, reflecting the moonlight like shards of green fire.

At first, he thought it was an animal, maybe a loon or a muskrat, but the eyes were too far apart… and too high above the water. The melody rose again, now so close it seemed to vibrate through the canoe itself, and the thing moved toward them with silent, deliberate strokes.

“Rick…” Paige’s voice was barely audible.

He shifted the paddle, ready to turn them around, but the melody changed—deeper, more insistent, as if speaking directly to them. Paige’s pupils were wide, her breath quick.

“I… I think it wants us to follow,” she whispered.

A chill ran down Rick’s spine. Behind those glowing eyes, the faint outline of something long, thin, and impossibly human-shaped moved beneath the water. The surface around it shimmered with unnatural light.

“Paige, don’t lean—” he started, but she was already shifting forward, reaching toward the water.

The canoe tilted dangerously. The lake’s song swelled, echoing through the night like a promise… or a trap.


The canoe rocked gently as Rick held the flashlight steady, its beam cutting a narrow cone through the lake mist. Paige’s breath came fast, though she tried to hide it, her voice trembling when she whispered, “Rick… it’s moving toward us.”

The glowing eyes vanished beneath the surface, replaced by a trail of ripples that circled them like a slow-moving predator. Rick’s knuckles whitened around the paddle. “Stay calm,” he murmured, though his own pulse thudded in his ears. He could still hear it—the eerie, almost mournful singing, weaving in and out of the mist, the melody wrapping around them like cold fingers.

Paige clutched the edge of the canoe. “It’s closer now.”

The water on their right suddenly churned, spraying droplets into the air. A shape rose—tall, impossibly thin, skin pale and slick under the moonlight. Long strands of black hair clung to its face, and its lips moved in time with the haunting melody. The eyes were inhuman—luminescent, unblinking.

Rick’s flashlight caught its gaze, and for the briefest moment, he thought he saw sorrow there… and longing.

Paige, as if entranced, leaned forward over the side. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice dreamlike.

“Paige, don’t—” Rick lunged, grabbing her by the waist just as the thing’s hands—long-fingered and webbed—broke the water, reaching. A sudden current tugged the canoe sideways, spinning it toward the center of the lake. The melody grew louder, drowning out everything else.

Rick gritted his teeth, trying to paddle them away, but every stroke felt weaker, the water thick as molasses. Paige’s eyes were glazed, fixed on the figure now gliding effortlessly toward them.

The lake’s song became unbearable—a piercing, aching note that seemed to bypass Rick’s ears and go straight into his mind. He felt a sharp, cold pull inside his chest, like his heartbeat was no longer his own.

Then—just as the thing’s fingers grazed the canoe—a deafening crack split the night. From the shore, a flare arced into the air, bathing the lake in red light.

The creature let out a shriek that was part human cry, part something older, more primal. It vanished beneath the surface with a swirl of bubbles. The water stilled.

Rick blinked, gasping, the sudden silence pressing heavy around them. Paige collapsed into his arms, shivering. “What… what happened?” she asked weakly, as though waking from a deep sleep.

Rick glanced toward the shore. A figure stood there holding the flare—a woman in a dark, tattered coat, her hair wild. Even from this distance, Rick could see her eyes shining with grim recognition.

“You shouldn’t be here,” her voice carried over the water. “The lake remembers. And it wants company.”


And so… 

the lake fell silent once more. The glassy surface closed over the thing with the glowing eyes, and the only ripples that remained were the ones in the minds of Rick and Paige. They returned to shore, their lips trembling—not from the cold, but from the questions they dared not ask each other. Some lakes are said to hold their secrets beneath the surface… 

but this one, my friends, has a voice. And if you listen closely, when the moon is high and the hour is late… you may hear it again. But take heed—if it sings to you… 

do not answer.





===========SHADOW
They saw something. They reported it. You decide what to believe.
Shadow — real stories, real encounters.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B4Z36PS3
Get your copy now. Have you seen something strange in the sky? Share your story in the reviews and join the conversation.


===========SPACE TALES 2
When dark clouds gather, victims discover too late that some wonders are better left unexamined.
Space Tales 2 by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FKHGKSL3
Grab your copy now and join countless others who have transformed their lives through the incredible stories in this book!  Read it with a cup of hot steaming coffee and a Danish.  Oh, yeah.


============

Visit and enjoy my Author Page 🍂📜 ♣️❤️♠️♦️
https://warlockpublishing.com/joseph-miller-author/joseph-miller
📚📖📘📙📗📕📔📒📓📔📒📓📚 ✨🌙💥👣️👽️🛸🚀☁️ 🕵️‍♀️💕




============ sponsor

KelDel Creations
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090364412851
Welcome to Kelly’s booth at the craft fair, where the spirit of artistry shines bright! As you explore her collection of unique handmade items, you’ll find everything from whimsical accessories to custom artwork that adds a special touch to any space. Kelly pours her heart into every creation, ensuring that each piece is not only beautiful but also meaningful. She enjoys connecting with visitors and sharing the stories behind her designs, making for an enriching experience.

 Bring your friends along and immerse yourselves in the warmth of creativity and community. With special fair discounts available, there’s never been a better time to support local artisans. Come on by and find that one-of-a-kind item you’ve been searching for!

Southington Farmer's Market
We'll be there again on Aug 29th.  We look forward to seeing you again!!  Don't forget to ask for one of Joe Miller's great books.  It will be autographed.

============

Thank you for visiting us during these lovely  August days! As the summer sun gives way to cooler evenings, we truly enjoyed sharing hot black coffee by the fire pit with you. Your laughter warmed our hearts and made the experience even more special. We look forward to seeing you again as the beautiful fall colors arrive!



Please do write a comment.  You could, if you dare, ask me a question, or be the first to send me a short, summer story! (500-1000 words). If I like it, I'll publish it right here in Miller's Mysteries Blog!
[send to mindmyst@yahoo.com]

Until next Thursday,    
Happy August!!! 

Joe Miller 🍻🍻 🦈️⛳️⛵🇺🇸️🌻

Quick question
If your pet could suddenly speak, what would you be terrified to hear it say? I can only imagine my cat complaining about how often I drop food and why he hasn’t gotten a Christmas sweater yet! There’s no telling what secrets they keep while we’re away!


Weather Forecast: Get ready for scattered showers and unpredictable lightning strikes that have reportedly been beefed up by angry local thunder gods. In an amusing twist, officials announced the discovery of an intergalactic bakery located near Jupiter, where black holes are used to create the most delicious pastries this side of the Milky Way. Just remember that calories don't count in outer space—so go ahead and fill up on cosmic croissants!

  Joe Miller