The Miller Report 10302025
Greetings and Welcome!
Greetings from sunny Southington, and welcome to Miller’s Mysteries blog! The goats are judging my planting skills, the cats are glaring at me for not feeding them faster, and the air smells like autumn adventures ahead.
We’ll wander through Calendar House Shows, catch a flick at AMC. Patio dining beckons at Back Nine Tavern, where the gentle breeze keeps spirits high. Stay cozy, stay curious, and let’s make some local memories together!
• Across my Desk!!
Fred and his wife Edna went to the state fair every year. And every year, Fred would say,
“Edna, I’d like to ride in that there airplane.” ✈️
And every year, Edna would reply,
“I know, Fred, but that airplane ride costs ten dollars, and ten dollars is ten dollars.” 💵
One year, Fred said,
“Edna, I’m 71 years old. If I don’t ride that airplane this year, I may never get another chance.” 🎡
Edna replied again,
“Fred, that there airplane ride still costs ten dollars… and ten dollars is ten dollars.” 😐
The pilot overheard them and said,
“Folks, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take you both up for a ride. If you stay quiet the entire time and don’t say a single word, I won’t charge you. But if you say one word, it’s ten dollars.” 🤫
Fred and Edna agreed, and up they went.
The pilot did all kinds of loops, rolls, and dives—no reaction. He pulled out all the stops a second time… still not a word. 😲✈️🎢
When they landed, the pilot turned to Fred and said,
“By golly, I did everything I could think of to make you yell, but you didn’t say a word!”
Fred replied,
“Well, I was gonna say something when Edna fell out…
but like she used to say - ten dollars is ten dollars.” 😳💸🤣✈️
There has been a major recall on Reese's Peanut Butter Cups!!
Please bring them to my house so I can properly dispose of them.
Which celebrity is always ready for ice cream?
Reese, with her spoon.
Wolf Creek Pass
https://www.facebook.com/reel/1282370482731907
3i Atlas intercept plan
https://www.facebook.com/reel/2300383863709097
• The Reader
Colleen takes her blog time to the porch swing in the early evening, with a tall lemonade and a spiral notebook. She opens Mindmyst Tales Blog on her laptop, balancing it carefully on a pillow. The swing creaks gently as she reads, pencil flicking across the paper with notes and doodles. She underlines phrases that feel sharp, circling bits that make her laugh. When fireflies begin to spark in the yard, she pauses just long enough to notice how perfectly the moment matches the story’s atmosphere. Then she leans back into the words again, letting them blend with the night. The lemonade is gone before she realizes it.
• Math of the Week
1. Candy Calculations (Algebra)
Bob bought 8 bags of Halloween candy, each costing $4.50. Michele used a $10 coupon toward the total. How much did they spend altogether on candy?
2. Pumpkin Geometry (Geometry)
Michele carved a large pumpkin shaped like a perfect sphere with a diameter of 12 inches. What is the pumpkin’s approximate volume? (Use
V=(4πr^3)/3
3. Light String Logic (Ratios & Proportions)
Bob hung orange lights around the porch. One 15-foot string covers one side of the porch. If the porch has four equal sides and each side measures 12 feet, how many strings of lights will Bob need?
4. Cupcake Conundrum (Fractions)
Michele baked 3 dozen cupcakes and decorated ¼ of them with spider webs, ⅓ with pumpkins, and the rest with ghosts. How many ghost cupcakes did she make?
5. Fog Machine Fuel (Linear Equations)
The fog machine uses 2.5 ounces of fluid every 6 minutes. If the party lasts 3 hours, how much fog fluid will Bob need in total?
• Now, This Week's Exciting Story
The Hayride
As the hayride creaked through the moonlit cornfield, Molly felt a cold hand slip into hers—only Rick was sitting on the other side.
When she turned to look, the shadow beside her whispered her name in Rick’s voice.
Molly yanked her hand back, heart slamming against her ribs. “Rick—was that you?” she hissed, eyes darting across the hay bales. The tractor’s engine rumbled ahead, its faint light barely slicing through the drifting mist that curled over the field.
Rick blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? I didn’t touch you.”
Her breath came out in shallow bursts. The scent of damp straw and gasoline filled her nose as something brushed her shoulder—a whisper-soft touch that made her spin around. Nothing but shadows and scarecrows, their burlap faces twitching in the wind.
“Rick, I swear, someone’s on this wagon,” she said, gripping his arm.
He swallowed hard. “There’s no one here, Mol. Just us and—”
The wagon lurched to a stop. Every head turned toward the front, but the driver’s seat was empty—just the steering wheel rocking slowly, as if someone invisible had just climbed down.
Rick whispered, “Okay... maybe you were right.”
Then the straw at their feet began to shift, rising, as if something beneath the hay had been waiting for them all along.
Molly’s scream caught in her throat as the hay rippled again—slow, deliberate, like breathing. A pale hand shot up from beneath the bales, grasping for her ankle. She kicked back hard, sending straw flying into the cold night air.
“Rick! Do something!” she gasped.
Rick jumped from the wagon bed, his boots thudding against the dirt path. The mist seemed to move with him, coiling around his legs like a living thing. “Hang on, I got you—” he said, but his voice faltered as he saw it: a face forming beneath the scattered hay. Hollow eyes. A mouth stitched shut with black thread.
The horses snorted and reared, the reins snapping free. The wagon jerked forward, pitching Molly against the railing. “Rick!” she screamed, reaching out as the fog swallowed him whole.
For a heartbeat, all she could hear was the creaking of the wooden wheels and the faint rustle of straw. Then a whisper rose from the floorboards—low, rasping, right beside her ear.
“Don’t leave me again…” it said.
And when Molly turned, the stitched mouth was gone—open now, smiling.
Molly stumbled backward, her fingers scraping against the rough wood of the wagon. The fog clung to her like wet cloth, chilling her to the bone.
“Rick! Where are you?!” she yelled, but the only reply was the squeal of the wagon wheels and the hollow moan of the night wind.
Then, out of the mist, a shadow slid along the hay like liquid. It coalesced into a tall figure—thin, ragged, and impossibly still. Its empty eyes seemed to pierce her very soul, and the stitched grin widened as it stepped closer, each movement making the straw crunch underfoot like brittle bones.
Molly’s chest heaved. “Who—what are you?!”
The figure tilted its head slowly, voice like dry leaves scraping together. “We’ve been waiting… waiting for the ones who laugh while the dead watch.”
The wagon lurched again, and she caught a glimpse of Rick—or maybe just a shape wearing his jacket—sitting rigid in the front, staring straight ahead, unblinking. His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Molly’s scream was swallowed by the fog as the figure reached a skeletal hand toward her, the air around it curling icy cold. “Come closer… or be left behind…”
She froze, the hay at her feet shifting again, like a tide of hidden faces rising. And somewhere in the darkness, the tractor’s engine groaned—but the driver was still nowhere in sight.
Molly’s heart pounded, but something inside her clicked. No more running. No more terror controlling her. She squared her shoulders and stepped toward the reaching figure.
“Leave him alone!” she shouted, voice cracking but firm. The shadow recoiled, as if her defiance struck it like a physical blow. The stitched grin faltered, and the hollow eyes flickered with something—fear? confusion?
Rick’s figure blinked, then gasped and scrambled toward her. “Molly?” His voice was real this time, warm and human. She grabbed his hand, refusing to let go.
Together, they stomped and shouted, the fog swirling violently around them, the hay twisting and writhing. Molly’s courage lit a fire inside her chest, and with each step forward, the darkness seemed to shrink, retreating back into the cornfield.
A final scream echoed behind them—a hollow, defeated shriek—and the wagon lurched back onto the path. The mist lifted, the scarecrows frozen once more in silent vigil, and the moonlight broke through the clouds.
Molly and Rick leaned against each other, trembling but alive, laughter and relief mixing with tears. “Next year,” Rick said, voice shaking but amused, “we pick a pumpkin patch… not a haunted nightmare.”
Molly laughed, gripping his hand. “Deal. But we survived. That counts for something.”
And somewhere in the distance, the whisper of the corn faded, leaving only the gentle rustle of the wind—and the memory of fear that could no longer touch them.
===========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
Aliens spotted debating over Earth’s best pizza toppings 🍕👽. Pepperoni or pineapple?
Warning: do not try to mediate this intergalactic debate alone.
SPACE TALES 2 by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FKHGKSL3
Buy a copy now. Begin your next great reading adventure.
============Special Dark
Jack Dark swore he’d retired from detective work — right up until Emily Harper walked in wearing trouble and perfume that could start a bar fight. 💋🔦
SPECIAL DARK by Joseph Miller
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FX9LTS74
Grab a copy now. Begin your next great reading adventure.
Visit and enjoy my Author Page 🍂📜 ♣️❤️♠️♦️
https://warlockpublishing.com/author-joseph-miller.html
📚📖📘📙📗📕📔📒📓📔📒📓📚 ✨🌙💥👣️👽️🛸🚀☁️ 🕵️♀️💕
============ sponsor
KelDel Creations
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100090364412851
Step into a booth full of charm and creativity—Kelly’s craft fair display is ready for you! Every item is handmade, reflecting careful attention and artistic passion. From practical pieces to decorative delights, there’s something to catch your eye. Kelly loves meeting visitors and sharing the stories behind her creations. Take a closer look at colors, textures, and tiny details you won’t find anywhere else. Whether shopping for yourself or a friend, you’ll leave inspired. Make Kelly’s booth your next stop at the fair!
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!!
============
• Thank you for stopping by!
October has a way of sneaking color into every mile, and I’m grateful you took this one with me. The coffee’s gone dark and rich, the soup’s thick and comforting, and the firepit hums like an old friend. Thanks for visiting — may your road home smell of woodsmoke and good memories.
• 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 Halloween!!!
Joe Miller 🍻🍻 🦈️⛳️⛵🇺🇸️🌻🍎🎃️
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