Spring in December. I'm lying in the long grass on top of the hill, the Mill Post this black spike looming away to my left. The taste of fruit and hon...y in my mouth is sweet and strange. There is a figure standing atop the crumbling wooden post. Chaime, Ciac, He stands with his arms spread, as if crucified."This pillar is my love for you," he says in a voice not his own, "But you do not love me."As he speaks the post begins to crumble, the age old wood rotten and weak, dust implodes and Ciac. Once more she opened the window."Six Hundred and Eighty Five!"How could she have given them such a wicked, savage punishment? Discipline was in her hands. How dare Annie overrule her and impose such unnecessary suffering? And the lash wasn't the answer. She saw this all too clearly. They would be back for more after this business was over. There must be a way to reach this pair and make something of them. Another visit to the drinks cabinet and several whiskies later, she was feeling better. More

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