Rose had dreamed of writing in her own haven by the sea for longer than she cared to remember. This one was a steal, and the previous tenant was heading out of the country so in something of a rush to offload the place. With her rose tinted spectacles firmly in position she signed on the dotted line.
The peace and quiet was infiltrated occasionally by the odd rumble but Rose quickly settled in and began writing her latest novel. She went for a wander every day and met a few folks.
‘You’re new here ain’t ye?’
The postman put his bag down and leaned on the porch rail.
‘Yes, I am, moved in last week.’
‘I hear tell you’re one of them writer types. Come to do a story have ye?’
Rose hovered in the doorway.
‘I’m working on my latest novel at the moment.’
‘Going to mention the Miller’s place?’
‘I don’t know anything about it.’
‘Fetch us a drink and I’ll tell ye all about it, better yet get ye car out and I’ll hop in and take ye so ye can see for yeself.’
‘I’ll get the keys and a bottle of pop.’
‘You’re a good ‘un.’
***
The site greeted them as soon as they turned into the road.
The Miller’s house, all of it, tumbling into the sea while they stood and watched.
Rose pulled over.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Oh the village’s falling into the sea. It’ll be a few months maybe a year before your place does don’t fret.’