GENRE: Humorous Middle Grade Fantasy
Samuel was already running when the miller's shed exploded. The wind whistled up behind him, lifting him clean off his feet. For a brief moment, he soared. Then he tucked his elbows in and landed with a thud, rolling several times before he came to a stop, flat on his back.
Samuel's experience with explosions had honed his technique for landing. If you are ever in a similar situation, you will find that keeping your elbows tucked in is vital upon making contact with the ground.
He opened his eyes and watched the white cloud drift down towards him. Puffs of flour danced on the breeze. His arms and legs began to report various aches and pains, but the lump in his throat hurt far, far worse. After an entire week at the mill, he'd begun to think that perhaps this job would be all right. Sometimes it seemed as though these catastrophes had been chasing him through all his twelve years, instead of just the last six months.
Someone groaned behind him and Samuel remembered the miller. He pushed his other thoughts aside and clambered to his feet, hurrying over to peer down at where the man lay spread-eagled amidst the debris. The miller's beard and moustache had turned white with flour, lending him a distinguished--if slightly stunned--appearance.
"Ooooh," said the miller, his eyes still closed. "What happened? Did I fly? I've always wanted to fly. I dreamed of it as a boy."