The Miller Report 10162025

 
Welcome, dear readers, to another bright day at Miller’s Mysteries blog! 

The air smells faintly of fresh pizza from Viron Rondo Osteria, while the neighbor’s goats plot their next peek-in and my cats judge silently. 
 Sunset
Calendar House Shows are calling, and I can almost hear the cheerful chaos of Hidden Valley mini-golf. Patio dining awaits at Hidden Valley Waterfront Café or Sam the Clam Pub & Grub, sun warming our faces. Stay tuned, laugh a little, and let’s explore Southington together!


  • Across my Desk!!
  
New SNAP provisions that tighten eligibility requirements could impact more than 40,000 CT residents, an official says.  What official?

Trump MAGA -- Marine One!!
https://www.facebook.com/reel/1276411130649010

Exercise for People Over 60 🏋️‍♂️🥔:
Begin by standing on a comfortable surface with plenty of room on each side.
With a 5-lb potato bag 🥔 in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can.
Try to reach a full minute, then relax. 😌
Each day, you’ll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer.
After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato bags. 🥔🥔
Then try 50-lb potato bags... and eventually work your way up to where you can lift a 100-lb potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight out for more than a full minute! 💪😎 (I'm at this level.)
After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag. 😂🥔

The Terrifying Signs You're Getting Old 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnxqLVDpIsc



  • The Reader
  
Sean leans back in a diner booth, a late-night cup of coffee steaming in front of him. The waitress has given him extra napkins, which he promptly turns into scratch paper. Pencil in hand, he opens Mindmyst Tales Blog on his phone. The hum of the diner fades as he gets pulled into the words. He scribbles notes right onto the napkin, shaking his head at how quickly ideas strike. The coffee grows bitter as it cools, but Sean doesn’t notice. By the time he looks up, the diner is nearly empty, and his napkin is covered in more writing than it was meant to hold.  He's writing weather forecasts over sketches of Connecticut.
  
  
 • Math of the Week

1. Campfire Cooking Ratios
Michele and Bobby are roasting marshmallows and making s’mores. For every 3 marshmallows, Michele uses 2 squares of chocolate and 1 graham cracker sheet. If they plan to make 18 s’mores, how many chocolate squares and graham cracker sheets will they need in total?

2. Hot Cocoa Geometry
They pour hot cocoa into a cylindrical thermos that’s 20 cm tall and has a diameter of 8 cm. The thermos is filled to 90% of its capacity.
👉 Find the volume of cocoa inside the thermos in cubic centimeters.
(Use π ≈ 3.14.)

3. Tent Shadows and Similar Triangles
At sunset, Bobby’s tent casts a shadow that’s 9 feet long. Bobby, standing 6 feet tall, casts a shadow 4.5 feet long at the same time.
👉 How tall is the tent?

4. The Hiking Trail Algebra
Michele and Bobby hike from their campsite to the lake and back — a total of 12 miles. Going to the lake, they hike uphill at an average of 3 mph. On the return trip downhill, they average 4 mph.
👉 How long did the entire hike take?

5. The Pumpkin Pancake Problem
For breakfast, Michele mixes a batter using 1½ cups of flour for every ¾ cup of pumpkin puree. She wants to make a double batch to feed the campers at the next site.
👉 How many cups of flour and pumpkin puree will she need for the double batch?


 • Now, This Week's Exciting Story

October Beach Bonfire

A warm October breeze rolled across the shoreline, carrying the mingled scents of sea salt and cinnamon. Paige moved barefoot through the sand, the lantern light painting amber halos around her as she arranged long wooden tables draped in plaid cloth. Bowls of spiced pumpkin hummus gleamed beside crisp pita chips, and trays of roasted apple cider pork sliders steamed invitingly in the cool night air.

Laughter rose from the fire pit where driftwood crackled and popped, its sparks flaring like fireflies against the dark. Someone strummed a guitar, and for a while, the night felt endless—summer refusing to let go.

Then Paige caught a flicker of movement beyond the firelight. A silhouette lingered on the dunes, half-shrouded in mist. The figure didn’t move, didn’t speak. The laughter faltered, replaced by the low hiss of the waves.

A chill swept over the gathering, subtle but sharp. Paige’s hand froze on a cider cup, her pulse quickening. Was it just a late guest drawn by the glow—or something else entirely, waiting just beyond the edge of the light?

-

The music faltered into silence, one last chord trembling in the salty air. Paige’s friends shifted uneasily, squinting toward the dunes. Only the steady crash of the surf filled the pause. Someone laughed too loudly—forced, brittle—and the sound broke apart like dry leaves.

Paige stepped closer to the fire, its warmth licking her shins. The figure on the ridge stood utterly still, a smudge of darkness against the deep indigo sky. Wind teased at her hair, and the lanterns fluttered as though the air itself had turned uneasy.

“Probably just Tanner,” someone murmured behind her, though their voice wavered. Paige tried to believe it. She raised a hand in greeting, but the shadow didn’t respond. Instead, it seemed to fold into the night, melting backward into the dunes.

A moment later, the fire sputtered. A sharp gust scattered ash across the tables, dusting the hummus bowls like gray snow. Paige turned toward the dunes again—nothing. Only the whisper of sea grass and the faint, rhythmic pulse of the tide.

Then she saw it. Footprints—fresh, distinct—trailing down the slope toward the beach. But they didn’t stop at the tables. They circled behind them.

-

Paige’s breath caught. The footprints curved behind the tables, vanishing into the dim space near the old lifeguard chair. The lantern light didn’t reach that far—only the weak orange glow of the fire brushed the sand in wavering strokes.

She took a slow step forward, every grain of sand crunching louder than it should. “Hello?” she called, voice taut. No answer—just the rhythmic sigh of the ocean. Her friends had fallen quiet again, watching. Even the guitar player gripped the neck of his instrument like a shield.

Then—movement. A figure stepped from behind the lifeguard chair, tall, coat flapping in the wind. Paige’s heart raced until she caught sight of the face—Tanner’s crooked grin. Relief and annoyance collided inside her.

“You absolute jerk,” she exhaled, half laughing, half scolding. Tanner held up a lantern of his own, the flame trembling. “Sorry,” he said, eyes darting toward the dunes. “I wasn’t the only one up there.”

Paige’s smile froze. “What?”

Before he could answer, the fire behind them flared high, hissing like it had inhaled something unseen. Shadows stretched along the sand—one too many, one that didn’t belong to anyone standing near the fire.

-

The night seemed to tighten around them, the air drawing in like a held breath. The fire roared once more, then sank to a trembling glow. Paige turned slowly, scanning the circle of faces lit by orange flicker—everyone frozen, eyes wide, every shadow swaying like a living thing.

On the far edge of the light, the extra silhouette still lingered. It wasn’t Tanner. It wasn’t anyone she knew. The figure was taller, broader, its outline ragged as if torn by the wind. When the next gust came, the flames bent toward it instead of away, drawn by something unseen.

Paige’s friends murmured, uncertain. A cider cup toppled, splashing against the sand. Tanner reached for Paige’s arm, his voice a whisper. “We should go.”

But Paige shook her head. Some deeper instinct urged her forward. She took one cautious step toward the dark figure. The sand beneath her bare feet felt colder now—wet, maybe, or worse.

The figure shifted, taking a step closer too. The lantern light caught its face—or where a face should’ve been. For the briefest second, Paige saw nothing but water trickling down the form, glistening like seaweed. Then a low, drawn-out sound rose from the waves, something between a sigh and a name.

It whispered, “Paige.”

-

The fire’s light wavered as Paige’s pulse thundered in her ears. That voice—wet and distant—shouldn’t have known her name. Her friends clustered closer to the fire, their chatter gone, only the waves and the uneasy hiss of burning driftwood between them and the dark.

Paige backed toward the tables, her mind flipping from fear to focus. The harvest spread she’d laid out gleamed under the lanterns—bowls, platters, carving knives. Her fingers found the handle of her chef’s knife, the one she’d used to slice cider pork earlier. Its polished steel caught a glint of firelight, a silver thread of courage.

She steadied her breath. “Everyone stay by the fire,” she said, voice low but steady. Tanner tried to protest, but she silenced him with a look that brooked no argument.

Lantern in one hand, knife in the other, Paige stepped toward the dunes. The figure hadn’t moved—still standing at the edge of the surf now, half-shrouded in sea mist. Her boots sank into the sand as she advanced, each step marked by the soft slap of the tide creeping in.

The lantern flame flickered wildly. “Who are you?” she called out, the words cutting through the wind.

The figure tilted its head—slow, deliberate. The wet whisper came again, closer now, curling around her like fog.
"You left something behind."

Paige tightened her grip on the knife, her reflection trembling in its blade. “Then come and tell me what.”

-

The figure took another step forward, the surf rising around its ankles without soaking the fabric of its coat. Paige felt her stomach drop — it wasn’t moving right. Every step looked wrong, like the tide was helping it along instead of resisting.

“Stop!” she shouted, knife angled low and ready. Her voice cracked against the wind but didn’t waver. The others called her name, but their words felt distant — muffled by the steady crash of waves and the rhythmic pulse of her heartbeat.

The stranger halted, only twenty feet away now. The lantern light shuddered over its shape — hollow where the face should have been, eyes glinting with faint blue light like reflections of distant lightning.

“I said stop!” Paige barked, taking a defensive stance. “Tell me what you want.”

The figure tilted its head again, a jerky, almost inhuman motion. “You shouldn’t have come back here,” it rasped, the sound like water forced through pebbles.

Something cold brushed her shoulder — a gust, she thought — until she realized the fire had died completely behind her. The beach was swallowed in darkness except for her flickering lantern.

Tanner’s voice rang out somewhere behind her, desperate and thin:
“Paige—don’t move! There’s another one behind you!”

-

Paige spun around so fast the lantern flame sputtered, throwing fractured light across the sand. Another shape loomed behind her—closer, silent, tall as the lifeguard chair. Its outline rippled, half-human, half-sea mist, as if the night itself had reached out to form it.

Her pulse pounded in her throat. Paige raised the knife, the blade flashing once in the dim glow. “Stay back!” she shouted. The wind swallowed her words, but the motion—the defiance—seemed to mean something. The nearer figure stopped.

Behind her, Tanner stumbled down the dune, clutching a burning stick from the dying fire. “Move!” he yelled, swinging it wildly as he came. Sparks scattered across the sand like fleeing stars.

The creature in front of Paige lunged—sudden, fluid, a blur of movement and brine. She dropped low, instinct taking over, and slashed upward. The blade met resistance—not flesh, but something colder, denser, like cutting into ice. The thing let out a guttural hiss, the sound rising, twisting into something that might’ve been pain—or fury.

A sharp, blinding flash erupted where the knife had struck. Paige stumbled backward, shielding her eyes. When her vision cleared, the beach was empty. No shapes. No voices. Only the slow, foamy crawl of the tide reclaiming the footprints.

Tanner reached her, panting, the torch still burning weakly. “What the hell was that?” he gasped.

Paige looked at the surf, then down at her knife. The blade was cold enough to steam in the warm air—and carved along its edge, faint but real, was a single word she’d never seen before:

“Return.”

-

The friends huddled close as Paige rekindled the fire, each spark flaring into a small halo of warmth and light. The scent of smoldering driftwood mixed with the faint tang of the sea, grounding them back in the familiar world. Tanner dropped beside her, rubbing his hands together, eyes wide.

“What… what just happened?” he whispered, voice shaking. “I thought… I thought there were two of them.”

Paige leaned forward, prodding the kindling, watching the flames curl higher. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her own voice steadier than she felt. “I think it’s… something tied to this beach. Something that doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

Her friends exchanged uneasy glances, glancing toward the dunes where shadows still lingered beyond the firelight. One of them, Lila, hugged her knees, muttering, “It called your name… Paige. That’s not normal.”

Paige’s hand lingered on the chef’s knife for a heartbeat, then she set it down beside her. “I don’t think it wanted to hurt me,” she said slowly, almost to herself. “It wants something… or it wants me to do something. The word on the knife—‘Return’—it wasn’t a threat. It was a warning… or a command.”

Tanner swallowed hard. “Return… what? When? How? And why the hell here?”

Paige stared into the fire, watching sparks drift upward like fleeting stars. “I don’t know yet,” she said. “But I do know one thing: whatever this is, we can’t ignore it. Not tonight.”

The wind rose again, rustling the dunes, carrying a whisper that sounded almost human, almost urgent. Paige shivered, but she also felt the faintest spark of determination. Tonight had changed everything—but it wasn’t over.



===========SHADOW
Misty nights descend upon the small town of Monroe, blocking visibility and muffling the sounds of existence. Those brave enough to walk the streets hear the eerie calls of lost children echoing from the thick fog, enticing them closer to the edge of sanity. When the sun rises, they find small, strange circles in their yards, filled with burnt grass and bones. Now forever drawn to the foggy veil, they become unwitting conduits for a terror lurking beyond the stars.
    
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
Breaking news from Miller's Mysteries Blog
3iAtlas, 2iBorisov, Oumuamua
They're probably going to need human meat 🤮, that’s probably why they're coming 🤔 ran out of meat in other planets they’ve invaded. 🤭
Warning: don’t read this alone in the woods. 👽
Space Tales 2 by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FKHGKSL3
Buy a copy now. Begin your next great reading adventure.


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

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https://warlockpublishing.com/author-joseph-miller.html
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============ sponsor

KelDel Creations
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090364412851

Creativity comes alive at Kelly’s craft fair booth! Every piece is handmade with care, from start to finish. You’ll discover jewelry, décor, and charming trinkets that make perfect gifts. Kelly enjoys connecting with visitors and sharing the inspiration behind her work. Explore the colors, textures, and imagination woven into each creation. Whether shopping for yourself or someone special, there’s something here to spark delight. Swing by Kelly’s booth and leave with a smile—and a treasure!

The 2025 Torrington Christmas Holiday Festival is Sunday, November 9th. Go support our local makers and community! Put this on your calendar!  We look forward to seeing you again!!  


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 • Thank you for stopping by and sharing a few October moments on this winding road of stories. The leaves are falling fast now, but there’s still time to linger by the firepit. I’ll keep the hot black coffee brewing and the soup simmering. Until next time, travel warm and write bright.



 • 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 🍻🍻 🦈️⛳️⛵🇺🇸️🌻🍎🎃️
 
 • weather forecast
October 17: Sunshine in the morning, locusts by noon, and breaking news that Mars is suing Earth for copyright infringement on “red dust storms.” Court dates remain pending due to cosmic scheduling delays. Afternoon high: 62.

 
 • Questions from readers:
 
Joe, is writing lonely?
👉 Nope. My characters won’t shut up long enough for me to be lonely.

Joe, what’s the best part about being an author?
👉 Making up stuff all day and calling it “work.”

Joe, do you ever base characters on real people?
👉 Yes. If you think one might be you, congratulations, it probably is.  


  Joe