The heavy door grates in its housing, the squeal-scrape issuing into the greening light of the woodland clearing. A deer stamps his warning to the dawn: the monster awakes. The water, a mob of eager gurgles and splashes rush the constricting channel on the shoulders of a careless current, tumbling into the first wooden trough. They, settle, wait.
Like an archaic Ferris wheel, the trough inches forward. Suicidal drops fling themselves into the void as the next troughs lines with the sluice offering up its embrace. The sluggish wheel gradually shakes off its torpor, wakens to toil and the slosh-clank-splash accelerates to a thunderous mesh of sound, drowning dawn's more delicate orchestra.
Inside, gears grind their teeth with insatiable appetite and a burly Miller scurries to the loft to placate the giant's grumbling guts with grain.
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