The Miller Report 10092025

 
Greetings, fellow mystery lovers, and welcome to Miller’s Mysteries blog! 

The sun is shining, squirrels are darting through the yard, and the goats are attempting a tactical reconnaissance of my garden. 

Cats perched on the windowsill look ready to report back to HQ. Soon, we’ll be enjoying a matinee at AMC or strolling to Sam the Clam's for a bite on the patio. Nothing like seasonal mischief, good food, and a little local wildlife to brighten your day!



  • Across my Desk!!

I yelled "COW!" at a woman on a bike and she gave me the finger. Then she plowed her bike straight into the cow.
I tried.
                                         ✨
If you can’t sleep at night, it’s usually because you’re awake. Hope this helps.  ✨           ✨   

Brain transplant
https://www.facebook.com/reel/1175913391255931

Breaking News from Miller's Mysteries Blog
3iAtlas with all the interior lights on.
I bet they have a dollar store and a Starbucks.


  • The Reader
  
Bonnie settles into her bed with a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. It’s almost midnight, and the house is quiet except for the ticking clock. On her nightstand rests a plate of cookies and a tall glass of milk. She props her tablet up and pulls out a stubby pencil and lined paper, her own ritual before diving into Mindmyst Tales Blog. 

As she reads, crumbs scatter across the paper where she’s scribbling down thoughts. A funny passage makes her laugh so loud her dog lifts his head. She pets him absently and keeps reading, her pencil moving as fast as her grin spreads.


 • Math of the Week
 
1. Pumpkin Patch Prices
Jack and Emily visit a pumpkin patch where small pumpkins cost $4 each and large pumpkins cost $7 each. They buy 3 small and 4 large pumpkins. If Jack pays with a $50 bill, how much change does he get back?

2. Apple Cider Ratios
Molly is making hot apple cider for a fall get-together. Her recipe uses 3 cups of cider for every 2 tablespoons of honey. If she’s making a large batch with 15 cups of cider, how many tablespoons of honey does she need to keep the same ratio?

3. Leaf Cleanup Crew
Rick rakes 450 leaves per hour in his backyard, while Emily rakes 300 leaves per hour. If they start raking at 2 p.m. and stop at 4 p.m., how many leaves did they clear altogether?

4. Corn Maze Coordinates
The Southington Corn Maze covers 12 acres, and the path inside winds for 3.5 miles. If Molly and Jack walk at an average pace of 2 miles per hour, about how long will it take them to walk the full maze — and how much of the maze will be left if they leave after 45 minutes?

5. Caramel Apple Conundrum
At the fall fair, Chantal buys a pack of 12 apples to dip in caramel. She plans to give ¾ of them to her friends and keep the rest for herself. How many caramel apples will Chantal enjoy at home later?


 • Now, This Week's Exciting Story

Sunset Hayride

Lefty and Chantal climbed onto a hay wagon rolling beneath glowing maples, the air alive with laughter. Chantal shared her maple-glazed pecan cookies, which disappeared faster than the wagon could move. Halfway through the ride, the tractor lurched to a stop—its driver had vanished. Lefty tipped his hat, muttering, “Guess we’re in for a longer night than planned.”



The wagon creaked in the sudden stillness, the engine ticking as it cooled. Crickets filled the silence with a nervous rhythm. Chantal brushed crumbs from her sweater and whispered, “Lefty, where’d he go?”

Lefty swung his boots off the hay bale and dropped down, the straw crunching underfoot. “Maybe he went to check a tire,” he said, though his tone wasn’t convinced. He walked toward the tractor, flashlight in hand.

The beam cut through mist rising from the fields. The driver’s seat was empty, a thermos still steaming beside the wheel. Then, in the distance—footprints in the dirt, leading into the corn rows.

Chantal climbed down after him, her breath visible in the cool air. “If this is some kind of autumn haunted hayride gimmick,” she said, “they owe me another cookie.”

A whisper of movement answered from the corn. Not wind—something else. Lefty raised the light, its beam flickering across a tattered scarecrow dangling from a pole. Its head turned slightly.

Chantal gasped and grabbed Lefty’s arm. “Please tell me you saw that.”

He nodded slowly, pulling her close. “Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the figure swaying in the twilight. “But I kinda wish I hadn’t.”



The scarecrow swayed with the breeze—or maybe something else, Chantal couldn’t tell. Its stitched grin seemed wider in the dim glow of the flashlight, the straw hands twitching like nervous fingers. The mist coiled around the wagon wheels as if to hush them.

Lefty took a cautious step forward, boots crunching on frost-kissed leaves. “Alright,” he muttered, “let’s see what’s really going on.” The wagon creaked behind them, empty, the laughter of passengers now only faint echoes.

A rustling came from the corn beyond the scarecrow. Leaves brushed together, whispering secrets, and then a pale shape emerged: the tractor driver—but not as they remembered him. His eyes glinted like moonlight on broken glass, and he moved with jerky, unnatural steps.

Chantal’s hand flew to her mouth. “He… he’s not… human,” she stammered. The figure raised one finger, pointing directly at them, and a low, rattling laugh rolled across the field. It sounded like metal scraping against stone.

Lefty’s heart pounded in his chest. “I told you,” he muttered, “we’re in for a longer night than planned.” He grabbed Chantal’s hand, dragging her behind him as they edged back toward the wagon. The driver figure paused, tilting its head, then slowly began following.

A sudden gust whipped through the hayride path, scattering leaves and tossing Chantal’s maple-glazed pecans across the ground. The scent of sweet nuts mixed with damp earth and something far fouler—a metallic tang, like blood or rust.

The wagon’s engine sputtered to life as if called by unseen hands. Lefty and Chantal scrambled aboard, hearts hammering, the pale figure just yards behind. The tractor coughed and groaned, finally pulling forward as the figure let out a piercing scream, swallowed by the night air.

By the time they reached the farm store, trembling and wide-eyed, the field was empty again. Only the moonlight on scattered leaves and a lone, tattered scarecrow remained, its grin unchanged, watching, waiting.



Lefty shifted slightly on the hay wagon, feeling the warmth radiate from Chantal as the cool autumn breeze brushed past them. Her laugh, light and melodic, seemed to wrap around him, mingling with the scent of maple-glazed pecans still clinging to her fingers. Every time she brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, Lefty caught a glimpse of her sparkling eyes, and his heart stuttered.

Chantal leaned closer to hand him another cookie, their fingers brushing just long enough to send a jolt through him. He cleared his throat, pretending to focus on the fiery maples overhead, but he couldn’t help stealing glances at her profile, the soft curve of her smile illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun.

“Did you ever ride through these woods at night before?” she asked, her voice a teasing whisper, drawing him out of his thoughts. He shook his head, realizing that the shadows and the rustling trees seemed less eerie with her so near.

As the wagon creaked forward, a sudden gust of wind tossed leaves into their laps, and Chantal shivered slightly. Lefty instinctively draped his jacket over her shoulders, noticing the way her eyes met his with a spark that made the dark woods around them feel almost electric.

The tractor’s sudden halt had faded into the background; all that mattered was the closeness, the quiet anticipation between them, and the unspoken question of what the night might bring. Even in the dim twilight, Lefty felt a thrill of something he hadn’t expected—a connection as fleeting and beautiful as the amber leaves falling around them.




The wagon sat still, the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant hoot of an owl the only sounds. Lefty’s hand lingered a moment too long on the edge of the hay, and Chantal noticed, her breath catching. She leaned slightly toward him, as if drawn by the quiet hush of the woods, the scent of autumn and maple cookies mingling in the air.

“Think the driver will come back?” she asked, her voice soft, almost a whisper meant for just him. Lefty shrugged, though his pulse was anything but calm. “Maybe… or maybe we’re meant to enjoy the view a little longer,” he said, letting his eyes trace the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck illuminated by the amber glow of the sunset.

Chantal’s fingers brushed his again, this time resting a heartbeat longer on his hand. She felt a warmth spreading through her, a mix of excitement and anticipation that had nothing to do with the hayride. The air between them seemed to hum, every small movement—every laugh, every glance—magnifying the closeness that had been building all evening.

A sudden rustle from the nearby trees made them both jump, but their hands stayed entwined, the shared shiver only drawing them closer. Lefty caught her gaze, the mischief in her eyes matching his own rising pulse, and he dared a teasing smile. “Guess the woods have their own plans for tonight,” he murmured.

The wagon creaked as if agreeing, and Chantal leaned her head slightly toward him, their foreheads almost touching. The tension was magnetic, the thrill of the unknown outside the hay wagon mirrored by the electric anticipation inside it. Neither spoke, letting the silence and the closeness say everything words could not.



The rustling in the trees softened, and the faint sound of the tractor engine returned, breaking the spell of silence. Lefty and Chantal exchanged a glance, both smiling at the mix of relief and lingering excitement. As the wagon began to roll again, the amber sunset casting long shadows through the maples, they leaned back into the hay, hands brushing, hearts still racing from the night’s suspense.

Chantal passed him a half-eaten pecan cookie, and Lefty took it with a playful bow. “Best hayride ever,” he murmured, and she laughed, a sound that mingled with the crisp autumn air. The woods around them whispered secrets, but for now, they were content to leave some mysteries unexplored.

The wagon rolled toward the farm, the last golden light glinting off the leaves, and Lefty and Chantal shared a quiet, knowing smile. Tonight had been a ride filled with surprises, laughter, and unspoken promises—memories they’d carry long after the final hay bale.

As the wagon settled back at the farm, the first stars blinked awake overhead, and Lefty caught Chantal’s hand in his. Somewhere deep in the shadows of the orchard, a faint, mysterious glow pulsed—like the night itself was keeping a secret just for them. They exchanged a smile, hearts quickened, knowing that this autumn adventure was only the beginning. Somewhere, somehow, the next surprise awaited, and they couldn’t wait to chase it together.



===========SHADOW
An asteroid known as 2024 YR4 could be on course to make contact with the moon—and such an impact wouldn’t come without consequence, according to an academic research paper published Sept. 15.
If the collision does occur, it could cause debris “up to 1,000 times above background levels over just a few days, possibly threatening astronauts and spacecraft” in low-Earth orbit, nearly two dozen researchers wrote.
If you want to know more about the UFO phenomenon over Connecticut, you need to read:

SHADOW by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0B4Z36PS3
Get your hands on a copy now and see for yourself the amazing testimonies entrusted to us for the record!




============Space Tales 2
Michigan. Dawn. UFOs. Terror.
That’s just page one!
This isn’t just sci-fi. It’s a warning wrapped in adrenaline, and bacon.

Space Tales 2 by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FKHGKSL3
Buy a copy now. Begin your next great reading adventure under your blankets, and maybe a flashlight and a piece of cheese. 🧀🔦


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

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

 • Thank you for stopping by! 

Thanks for stopping by on these late-October roads, where the trees stand half-bare and the evenings grow quiet. The firepit’s glowing low tonight, and a bowl of hot soup waits beside a mug of black coffee. May your heart stay warm even as the nights turn sharp. Come back soon, before the frost settles in.


 • Please do write a comment.  You could, if you dare, ask me a question. If I like it, I'll publish it right here in Miller's Mysteries Blog!
[send to mindmyst@yahoo.com]

Until next Thursday,    
Happy October!!! 

Joe Miller 🍻🍻 🦈️⛳️⛵🇺🇸️🌻🍎🎃️

 • Quick question
 If you were a comedian, what would your signature joke be that would either make everyone laugh or just stare in disbelief? Let’s be honest; my punchline might involve my inability to cook anything without burning it! “Welcome to my kitchen—where even the smoke alarm gets a workout!”
 
 
 • weather forcast
 
Expect crisp fall air and scattered sightings of UFOs picking apples. Orchards report record profits in cider sales to little green men. Watch for tractor beams in low-lying areas.

 
 • Questions from readers:
 
Joe, do you ever get writer’s block?
👉 No, but I do get “writer’s procrastination,” which looks suspiciously like eating nachos.

Joe, what do you do if readers don’t like your story?
👉 I politely tell them they’re wrong — then write a sequel just to annoy them.  


 Joe