lost in the Lindale Mill

September 30, 2021

Imagination, Day 31—Click 

“We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.”
― Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Last Sunday morning—

“You’re going to love it,” she said.

I cringed.

She continued, “The Rome Area Heritage Foundation is having a reception from 4:00 to 6:00. There will be food and nice people.”

That sounded like it might be harmless and interesting. The other part that got my interest was that the get-together would be held at the old Lindale Mill which had been shut down for years. She said that part of the mill had been demolished and another part of it was being turned into an event site for weddings and other gatherings. It sounded interesting. What could go wrong?

The visit to the mill was interesting, indeed. The fabric mill was started in the latter part of the 19th century and the community of Lindale grew up around it. The mill ceased operations a number of years ago.

We parked in front of a chain link fence and walked across a large expanse of concrete between a couple of giant buildings, and into what I would call a courtyard that consisted of a large concrete “patio.” Tables and chairs were set up and there was a special table where we could renew our membership. Next to that was a bar.

A lot of people were there, looking around and talking, seeing and being seen. A shapely arm waved to us from a distant corner. Dekie said, “Look, it’s Maureen.” Now, Maureen is an interesting, charming and fun lady, so we walked over to talk with her.

We talked a while and were later joined by Bryan and Maureen’s friend Donna. Things progressed. After our snack, someone pointed to a bridge over Silver Creek (which runs through the middle of the mill) and said that an event room was open for us to see.

Oh, boy! The four of us walked across the bridge. I could only imagine the hordes of workers that would have walked over this bridge in the past.

The event room was giant. It was well-restored and adapted with a couch or two lost in open spaces. Back toward the rear of the room, I saw a door with a sign on it. “Oh, No,” I thought and I hurried to go stand in front of it so my wife wouldn’t see it. She made me move. The large sign on the door said, “Do Not Enter.”

I knew what would happen. Yep. She opened the door and walked in to look around. Maureen, Bryan and Donna laughed at her temerity and followed her. My little voice told me not to let the door shut behind us, so I stood there holding it open.

“Sweetie, look at this,” she hollered. I turned to look. My hand slipped from the door and I heard a dreaded sound…CLICK.

We were locked in a dungeon with no way out. All of the massive steel doors were immovable. We were in trouble. The room was a corridor that crossed back over Silver Creek. There were windows but they were high over the creek.

Finally, from the distance, Bryan yelled. He had been able to slide a door open slightly and there was just enough room for us to slide through. We escaped from the dungeon were saved. Just an ordinary Sunday afternoon.

—john schulz

Published by John P.Schulz

I lost my vocal cords a while back due to throat cancer. The laryngectomy sent me on a quest to find and learn to use my new, altered voice. I am able to talk now with a really small and neat new prosthesis. My writing reflects what I have learned in my search for a voice. My site johnschulzauthor.com publishes a daily motivational quote and a personal comment. I write an article a week for my blog, johntheplantman.com which deals with a lot of the things that I do in the garden. I am also the author of Requiem for a Redneck and the new Redemption for a Redneck--novels portraying the lives and doings of folks around the north Georgia hills. I have an English Education degree from the University of Georgia and very happily married to the lovely Dekie Hicks. You may enjoy my daily Quotes and Notes at http://johnschulzauthor.com/

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