YT YouTube2Text

YouTube2Text → Transcripts → Thrown Out at 18, She Bought a $10 Mill House—What She Found Under the Floorboards Shocked Everyone

Thrown Out at 18, She Bought a $10 Mill House—What She Found Under the Floorboards Shocked Everyone — Transcript

by AC Harrison Stories · 5,648 words · 805 segments · language en · Watch on YouTube

Open in transcriber Summarize with AI Download SRT/VTT

Full transcript

0:00She was 18 and had just been thrown out.
0:02No savings, no plan, nothing but a
0:05backpack and $10 she'd earned sweeping
0:07the floor of a bakery. And with that
0:10$10, she bought a crumbling mill house
0:12on a creek in the mountains of North
0:14Carolina. The roof was caving in. The
0:18waterhe was broken. The county had tried
0:21to demolish it twice and failed because
0:23no contractor wanted to drive equipment
0:25that far into the woods. But what nobody
0:28knew was that beneath the floorboards of
0:30that old mill, hidden in a space that
0:33hadn't been opened since 1958, was
0:36something that would change her life
0:38forever. Before we continue, if stories
0:41like this mean something to you, hit
0:43subscribe and tell us in the comments
0:46where you're watching from. We love
0:48seeing how far these stories travel. Ren
0:51Casey was small. Not just young, but
0:54physically small. the kind of person who
0:56gets overlooked in crowded rooms and
0:58talked over at tables and mistaken for
1:00younger than she is. She had been small
1:03her whole life. At 12, she looked nine.
1:06At 15, she looked 12. At 18, she still
1:10got carded at PG-13 movies, which would
1:13have been funny if anything else in her
1:14life had been funny, which it mostly
1:17wasn't. She grew up in Asheville, North
1:20Carolina, in a house on the north side
1:22of town that belonged to her stepfather,
1:25a man named Dale, who installed gutters
1:27for a living and drank bourbon for a
1:29hobby. Her mother had married Dale when
1:31Ren was seven, and for a while things
1:34were fine, or at least they looked fine,
1:37which is how most difficult childhoods
1:39begin. Dale was cheerful when he was
1:41sober and quiet when he wasn't, and only
1:44became someone else entirely on the
1:46nights when the bourbon ran out before
1:48his anger did. Those nights didn't
1:51happen often at first. Then they
1:53happened more. Then they happened most
1:55of the time. Ren's mother, a woman named
1:58Shelby, who had once dreamed of being a
2:00veterinarian and who still kept a
2:02textbook on animal anatomy on the shelf
2:04above the washing machine, coped by
2:06becoming invisible. She moved through
2:09the house like a shadow, cooking meals,
2:12folding laundry, answering questions in
2:14single words. She did not argue with
2:16Dale. She did not contradict Dale. She
2:20did not look at Ren when Dale was in the
2:21room because looking at Ren meant
2:23acknowledging that Ren was there, and
2:25that meant acknowledging that Ren was
2:27hearing and seeing everything that was
2:29happening. And Shelby had decided at
2:31some point that Ren couldn't identify.
2:34That not acknowledging was easier than
2:36acknowledging.
2:38easier and safer and all she had the
2:41strength for. Ren learned to be
2:43invisible, too. She learned it the way
2:46children learn everything by watching
2:48and imitating and practicing until it
2:50became second nature. She learned to eat
2:53quietly. She learned to walk without
2:56making the floorboards creek. She
2:58learned to sit in her room with the door
3:00closed and the light off and a book held
3:02close to her face, reading by the light
3:05that came in from the street lamp
3:06outside her window so that nobody in the
3:09house would know she was awake. She got
3:12a job at 16 at a bakery downtown called
3:15Honey and Rye, working mornings before
3:17school, 4:30 a.m. to 7:00 a.m. sweeping
3:21the floor and washing pans and loading
3:23bread into the display cases. The owner
3:26was a woman named Pauline who was 62 and
3:29had arms like a long shoreman from 40
3:31years of kneading dough and who called
3:33everyone sugar regardless of their age
3:36or gender or whether she liked them.
3:39Pauline paid Ren $9 an hour in cash and
3:42never asked why an 18-year-old was
3:44willing to show up at 4:30 in the
3:45morning without being told twice.
3:49Ren saved what she could. She kept the
3:51money in a Ziploc bag inside a sock
3:54inside her backpack, which she took
3:56everywhere, including the shower. She
3:59had $214 when Dale threw her out. It
4:02happened on a Thursday in February. Ren
4:05came home from school and found her
4:07things on the porch in a black garbage
4:09bag. The front door was locked. Dale's
4:13truck was in the driveway. She could
4:16hear the television through the walls, a
4:18game show, the audience applauding
4:20something. She stood on the porch for
4:23about 3 minutes looking at the garbage
4:25bag. Then she picked it up and walked to
4:28the bus stop and took the bus downtown
4:30to Honey and Rye. Pauline was still
4:33there wiping down the counters at the
4:35end of the day. She looked at Ren,
4:38looked at the garbage bag, and said,
4:41"Sit down, sugar. I'll make you some
4:43toast."
4:45Ren sat at the small table in the back
4:47of the bakery and ate toast with butter
4:50and raspberry jam and drank a glass of
4:52milk while Pauline made phone calls. By
4:55the time Ren finished eating, Pauline
4:58had found her a place to sleep for the
4:59night. A cot in the back room of the
5:01bakery and a lead on something else
5:04entirely. My cousin Merl has a property,
5:07Pauline said, leaning against the
5:09counter with her arms crossed. Up in
5:12Madison County, past Hot Springs way
5:14back in the mountains. It's an old grist
5:17mill on a creek. Stone building. Two
5:20stories. Been empty since the 1960s.
5:23He's been trying to sell it for years.
5:25Nobody wants it. Too far from the road.
5:29Too much work. Too much everything. Last
5:32I heard, the county put it up for tax
5:34sale at $10. Nobody bid. She paused. You
5:38want it? Ren looked at her. I have $214.
5:43It costs $10. What's wrong with it?
5:47Pauline smiled. The kind of smile that
5:50says I'm not going to lie to you, but
5:51the truth is going to require some
5:54imagination.
5:56Everything. The roof leaks. The water
6:00wheel is broken. There's no electric, no
6:02water, no road past the last mile. It's
6:05a stone box on a creek in the middle of
6:07nowhere. She paused again.
6:10But the stones are solid, the creek is
6:13clean, and nobody will bother you out
6:15there. Nobody will bother you. That
6:18sentence landed in Ren's chest like a
6:21key turning in a lock. She had spent her
6:24entire life being bothered, being
6:27watched, being managed, being made small
6:30by someone else's noise. the idea of a
6:33place where nobody would bother her,
6:35where she could exist without being
6:37monitored or evaluated or yelled at,
6:39where the loudest sound was a creek.
6:42That idea was worth more than $10. It
6:45was worth everything she had.
6:48Yes, she said. I want it.
6:52Pauline drove her to the Madison County
6:54Courthouse the next morning in a bakery
6:56delivery van that smelled like sourdough
6:59and diesel. The courthouse was a
7:01handsome brick building in Marshall, the
7:03county seat, a small town squeezed
7:05between the French Broad River and the
7:07mountains that rose straight up on both
7:09sides like walls. The clerk's office was
7:12on the second floor. The clerk was a
7:15thin man in his 50s with a mustache and
7:17a bolo tie who looked at the listing,
7:19then at Ren, then at Pauline, then back
7:23at the listing. The old Presley Mill up
7:25on Laurel Creek. That's the one, Pauline
7:29said.
7:30The man leaned back in his chair. "Miss,
7:33that property is 2 miles from the
7:35nearest maintained road. The last mile
7:37is a footpath. There's no electric
7:40within a/4 mile. No cell service. The
7:43building hasn't been occupied since EMTT
7:46Presley died in 1962. The roof is
7:49compromised. The floor may not be safe."
7:52He adjusted his bolo tie. The county
7:55tried to demolish it in 2008 and again
7:58in 2015.
8:00Both times the contractor said it wasn't
8:02worth bringing equipment up the creek
8:04trail, so it's still standing barely.
8:08Ren put $10 on the counter. He looked at
8:11the $10 bill. He looked at Ren. He
8:14picked up a pen. You'll need to sign
8:16here, he said. And here. Pauline drove
8:20Ren as far as the road went, which was a
8:23gravel forest service road that ended at
8:25a turnaround beside a trail head sign.
8:28From there, it was a two-mile walk along
8:30Laurel Creek. Pauline hugged her at the
8:33truck, pressed a paper bag of bread and
8:35cheese into her hands, and said, "You
8:38call me if you need anything. There's a
8:40pay phone at the gas station in Hot
8:42Springs." Ren walked the trail alone. It
8:46followed the creek upstream, winding
8:48through a forest of tulip poppplers and
8:50hemlocks and rodendron thicket so dense
8:53they formed tunnels of green. The creek
8:56ran fast and clear over a bed of smooth
8:58stones, the water making a sound like
9:01someone talking in another room,
9:03constant and indistinct and soothing.
9:06The trail was narrow but wellworn,
9:09packed earth with exposed roots and
9:11rocks that had been polished by decades
9:13of rainfall. Ferns grew in thick beds
9:16along the banks, their fronds uncurling
9:19in the spring air like slow green fists
9:21opening. The air was cool and damp and
9:24smelled like wet stone and laurel and
9:27the clean mineral smell of moving water.
9:30She walked for about 45 minutes. The
9:33trail climbed gradually following the
9:34creek as the valley narrowed. The trees
9:37got taller and closer together. The
9:40light changed, going from bright
9:42afternoon sun to a green underwater glow
9:45as the canopy thickened overhead. She
9:48passed a waterfall, small, maybe 6 ft,
9:51the water dropping over a ledge of dark
9:53rock into a pool so clear she could
9:55count the pebbles on the bottom. She
9:58passed a stand of birch trees with white
10:00bark peeling in curls. She passed a pile
10:03of stones that might have been a chimney
10:05from a house that no longer existed. She
10:08was used to being alone. She had been
10:11alone in crowded rooms for years, but
10:14this was different. This was the first
10:16time being alone felt like something she
10:19had chosen rather than something that
10:22had been done to her. The forest didn't
10:24watch her the way people watched her. It
10:27didn't judge her or evaluate her or
10:29decide what she was worth based on how
10:31much noise she made. It just existed,
10:35enormous and indifferent and alive, and
10:38she existed inside it, and that was
10:41enough. Then, around a bend, where the
10:43creek made a sharp turn around a rock
10:45outcropping, she saw it. The Milhouse
10:49sat directly over the creek, straddling
10:52it like a bridge. It was built of rough
10:54cut stone, the blocks gray and green
10:57with lyken, fitted together without
10:59mortar in the old Appalachian style.
11:01Each stone chosen and placed by hand to
11:04lock against its neighbors. The building
11:07was two stories, maybe 25 ft wide and 35
11:11ft long. The lower story was the mill
11:14room where the grinding stones would
11:16have been, its stone walls rising
11:18directly from the creek bed, the water
11:21flowing through a stone archway beneath
11:22the building. The upper story was the
11:25living quarters with two windows on each
11:27side, the glass long gone. On the creek
11:31side, the old wooden waterhe was still
11:33partially attached to the building, but
11:36it was broken. Three of its paddles
11:38missing. The wooden axle cracked, the
11:41whole structure listing to one side and
11:43covered in thick green moss. The front
11:45door faced the trail, a heavy oak door
11:48that hung crooked on rusted iron hinges,
11:51one hinge broken, the door resting at an
11:54angle against the stone frame. The roof
11:57was wooden shingles, and roughly a
11:59quarter of them were missing on the left
12:00side, exposing the rafters. Thick ivy
12:04and Virginia creeper covered the right
12:06wall from foundation to roof line. Ferns
12:10grew from cracks in the stone near the
12:12creek level, but the stones were solid.
12:15Ren could see that even from the trail.
12:19The walls were straight, the corners
12:21were plum. The foundation, which was the
12:24creek bed itself, was bedrock. This
12:27building had been standing here for over
12:29150 years, and it looked like it could
12:31stand for 150 more, if someone cared
12:34enough to give it a roof. Ren pushed
12:37past the crooked door and stepped
12:39inside. The ground floor was the mill
12:42room, a single large space with a stone
12:45floor and a low ceiling of heavy oak
12:47beams. The grinding stones were still
12:50there. Two circular stones about 3 ft
12:52across, one on top of the other, mounted
12:55on a wooden frame in the center of the
12:57room. They were covered in dust and
13:00cobwebs, but intact. The mechanism that
13:03had once connected them to the waterhe,
13:06a system of wooden gears and iron
13:08shafts, was partially collapsed against
13:10the back wall. The creek was audible
13:13everywhere. A constant murmur coming up
13:16through the stone floor and through the
13:17archway at the rear of the room where
13:19the water flowed beneath the building. A
13:22narrow wooden staircase in the corner
13:24led up to the second floor. Ren tested
13:27each step before putting her full weight
13:29on it. The wood creaked and flexed, but
13:33held. The second floor was the living
13:36quarters, a single room with a plank
13:38floor, stone walls, and two windows on
13:41each side that let in pale green light
13:43filtered through the forest canopy. A
13:46stone fireplace stood against the back
13:48wall, its chimney running up through the
13:50damaged roof. An old iron bed frame sat
13:53in one corner, the mattress long gone. A
13:57wooden table and one chair stood against
13:59the wall, both dusty but solid. The
14:03floor was wide chestnut planks, dark
14:05with age, and when Ren stepped on them,
14:08she noticed immediately that several of
14:09the planks near the fireplace were
14:11loose. They rocked slightly under her
14:14weight, a subtle movement that most
14:16people would have missed. But Ren was
14:19the kind of person who noticed subtle
14:21things. She had spent her whole life
14:24noticing subtle things, shifts in tone,
14:27changes in breathing, the difference
14:29between a door that was locked and a
14:31door that was about to be locked.
14:34Noticing was how she survived. She knelt
14:38beside the loose planks and pressed on
14:40them. They lifted easily. Beneath the
14:43planks in the cavity between the floor
14:44and the ceiling of the mill room below
14:47was a wooden crate, handmade rough saw,
14:51about the size of a milk crate with rope
14:53handles on the sides. It was heavy. Ren
14:56pulled the crate out and set it on the
14:58floor. Inside, wrapped in heavy canvas
15:01that had been waxed to keep out
15:02moisture, were mason jars. She counted
15:0612. Each jar was sealed with a zinc lid
15:09and filled with something that caught
15:11the pale green light from the windows
15:13and held it. She opened the first jar.
15:17Coins, old coins, large silver dollars
15:20and half dollars, heavy and cool,
15:23stacked tight inside the glass. She
15:26opened the second. Paper money, old
15:28bills, rolled tight and packed in so
15:31densely the jar weighed several pounds.
15:34The third jar held more coins. The
15:36fourth held bills. The fifth held a
15:40mixture of both. Silver coins layered
15:42with folded currency packed with the
15:44care of someone who understood that what
15:47they were saving mattered.
15:50Ren opened every jar sitting on the
15:53chestnut floor with the forest light
15:55coming through the glassless windows and
15:57the sound of the creek rising through
15:59the stones beneath her. The paper money
16:02totaled $19,400.
16:05The coins, she would later learn when
16:07she had them appraised at a coin shop in
16:09Asheville, were worth another $12,800,
16:14mostly in silver value, $32,200.
16:19At the bottom of the crate, beneath the
16:21last jar, was a leather pouch tied with
16:24a piece of twine. Inside the pouch was a
16:26folded piece of paper, dry and brittle,
16:29written in pencil in a careful hand. My
16:32name is EMTT Presley. I have run this
16:35mill since 1921.
16:37My father ran it before me since 1889.
16:40My grandfather built it in 1871 with
16:43stones he cut from the creek bed. This
16:46money is what I have earned and saved
16:48over 40 years of milling corn and wheat
16:51for the people of this valley. I put it
16:53here because banks are for flatlanders
16:55and I am not a flatlander. If you are
16:57reading this, you have found my mill and
17:00you have found my savings. Use them to
17:02keep the mill standing. The stones are
17:05good. The creek is clean. The wheel can
17:08be fixed. A mill is a useful thing. A
17:12place that turns grain into flour is a
17:14place that feeds people. As long as it
17:16stands, someone will be fed. EMTT
17:20Presley, April 1958.
17:23Ren read the letter sitting on the
17:25chestnut floor of a building her great
17:27greatgrandfather or someone like him
17:29might have once brought corn to. in a
17:31valley that had been grinding grain
17:33since before the Civil War. And she held
17:36the letter against her chest and
17:38breathed. She didn't cry. Ren Casey
17:41didn't cry much. She had learned early
17:44that crying drew attention, and
17:46attention in her house was never a good
17:48thing, but she felt something shift
17:51inside her. Like a wall she hadn't known
17:54was there moving aside to reveal a room
17:56she hadn't known existed. The room was
17:59warm. The room was quiet. The room was
18:01hers. If you're enjoying this story,
18:03take a second and subscribe. It helps us
18:06keep making stories like this one and
18:08tell us in the comments. Have you ever
18:10found something in an old building that
18:12told you someone else's story? The next
18:15week, Ren walked back to the gas station
18:17in Hot Springs and called Pauline from
18:19the pay phone. She told her what she
18:22found. Pauline was quiet for a long time
18:24and then she said, "Emtt Presley, I'll
18:28be damned. My grandmother used to take
18:30her corn to that mill. She said EMTT
18:32could grind a bushel so fine you could
18:34bake angel food cake with it. Ren
18:37deposited the money at a bank in
18:38Marshall the following day. She hitched
18:41a ride from the trail head with a Forest
18:43Service ranger who was driving that
18:45direction and who looked at her like she
18:48was either very brave or very lost and
18:50she wasn't sure which one she was
18:52either. She bought a truck, a 1999
18:56Toyota Tacoma with $198,000 mi and a
18:59rust spot on the tailgate the size of a
19:01dinner plate. It cost $2,600 from a
19:05mechanic in Mars Hill who said it would
19:07run until the sun burned out as long as
19:09she changed the oil every 5,000 mi. She
19:13changed the oil the day she bought it in
19:15the mechanic's parking lot, lying on her
19:17back on a piece of cardboard because the
19:19mechanic showed her how and she wanted
19:21to know. She drove the truck to the end
19:23of the forest service road and hiked in
19:25with supplies. For the first two weeks,
19:28she carried everything on her back,
19:30tools, tarps, food, a sleeping bag, a
19:34camp stove, making two trips a day, one
19:36in the morning and one in the afternoon.
19:39Each one a two-mile walk uphill along
19:41the creek with 40 lb on her back. She
19:44was small, but she was strong in the way
19:46that small people are sometimes strong,
19:48wiry, and stubborn. the kind of strength
19:51that comes not from size, but from
19:53refusal to stop. The first month was the
19:56roof. She couldn't do anything else
19:58until the roof was fixed. She bought
20:01shingles and roofing felt at a building
20:03supply in Marshall, and carried them in
20:05over 3 days, bundled on her back in
20:08loads of 50 lb. She tore off the damaged
20:11shingles on the left side, replaced the
20:14rotted rafters with new lumber she had
20:16cut and carried in piece by piece, and
20:18laid new shingles row by row. She
20:21learned by doing. The first row was
20:24crooked, and she pulled it up and did it
20:27again. The second row was better. By the
20:3010th row, she had found a rhythm. Nail
20:33slide overlap. Nail slide overlap. A
20:36pattern her hands learned before her
20:38brain understood. When the last shingle
20:40was down and she climbed off the roof
20:42and looked up and saw a complete solid,
20:44unbroken surface over her head, she sat
20:47on the bank of the creek and ate a
20:49sandwich and felt something she had
20:51never felt before. She had built a roof,
20:55not a perfect roof, not a professional
20:57roof, but a roof that would keep the
20:59rain out and the warmth in, and that she
21:02had built with her own two hands. Nobody
21:05could take that from her. Nobody could
21:07lock that in a room or put it in a
21:09garbage bag on the porch. It was hers,
21:12nailed to the rafters, permanent. The
21:16second month was windows. She measured
21:18the openings and ordered glass from a
21:20hardware store in Asheville, then drove
21:23to the end of the forest road and hiked
21:25the panes in one at a time, wrapped in
21:27blankets and carried flat against her
21:29chest like she was carrying a sleeping
21:31child.
21:33She glazed them herself, pressing putty
21:35into the old stone frames with her
21:37thumb, fitting each pane until it sat
21:40solid and still. When all eight windows
21:42were in, and she stood in the upstairs
21:44room and looked out through clean glass
21:46at the forest in the creek, the room
21:49filled with green light, so clear and
21:51bright it looked like being inside an
21:53emerald.
21:55The third month was the floor and
21:57fireplace. She pulled up the loose
21:59chestnut planks around the fireplace,
22:02checked the joists beneath for rot,
22:04replaced two that had softened, and
22:06relayed the floor with the original
22:08planks, sanding them by hand until the
22:11old chestnut grain appeared, dark and
22:13warm and rippled with the marks of an
22:16ads from 1871.
22:19The fireplace she cleaned out by hand,
22:21scraping decades of creassote from the
22:23chimney with a wire brush taped to a
22:25long branch, pushing it up from below
22:27until black flakes rained down into the
22:29hearth. She tested the draw by lighting
22:32a small fire of twigs and watching the
22:35smoke. It pulled straight up and out.
22:38The chimney was clear. The fourth month
22:41was water and power. She didn't need to
22:44run a pipe. She had a creek. She
22:46installed a hand pump at the kitchen
22:48sink she built against the wall, running
22:50a line down through the floor, through
22:52the mill room, and into the creek
22:54through the stone archway.
22:56Cold, clean mountain water, gravity-fed
22:59and constant. For electric, she started
23:02with a small solar panel she mounted on
23:04the south-facing wall above the roof
23:06line, connected to a battery she kept in
23:09the mill room below. enough for a light,
23:11a phone charger, and a small radio she
23:14found at a thrift shop in Hot Springs
23:16that picked up exactly one station, a
23:19public radio affiliate out of Asheville
23:21that played classical music in the
23:23evenings and the news in the mornings.
23:25She kept the grinding stones. She
23:28cleaned them, oiled the wooden frame,
23:30and left them standing in the center of
23:32the millroom like a monument. She liked
23:35the weight of them, the solidity. two
23:37stones, each one cut by hand from a
23:40single piece of granite, fitted together
23:42so precisely that when they turned, they
23:44could crush a kernel of corn into flour
23:46as fine as talcum powder. They had been
23:49doing this for 90 years before EMTT
23:51Presley wrote his letter, and they could
23:53do it again if someone fixed the wheel.
23:56She fixed the wheel. It took 3 weeks.
24:01She replaced the broken paddles with new
24:03ones she cut from white oak. She fell on
24:05the hillside above the mill, shaping
24:08each paddle with a draw knife and
24:10fitting it into the wheel frame with
24:11wooden pegs. She replaced the cracked
24:14axle with a new one. A straight piece of
24:17locust she turned on a makeshift lathe
24:19she rigged using the truck's spare tire
24:21as a drive wheel and a drill as a motor.
24:25She rehung the wheel on its iron
24:27brackets and reconnected it to the
24:29grinding mechanism through the stone
24:31wall. The day she opened the slle gate,
24:33and the creek water hit the paddles, and
24:35the wheel began to turn slowly at first,
24:38then faster, groaning and creaking and
24:41dripping, and the grinding stones in the
24:43millroom began to rotate with a low,
24:46heavy, rumbling sound that she could
24:48feel in her chest and in the soles of
24:50her feet through the stone floor.
24:53That day, Ren Casey stood in the doorway
24:56of a 150year-old grist mill and watched
24:59a machine that had been dead for 60
25:01years come back to life. And she
25:03understood for the first time what it
25:05means to be useful. Not useful in the
25:09way that being invisible is useful. Not
25:13useful in the way that not causing
25:15trouble is useful, but useful in the
25:19real way. the way a mill is useful. The
25:23way a building that feeds people is
25:25useful. By the sixth month, the mill
25:27house was a home. The upstairs room had
25:31a bed she built from locust posts and
25:33chestnut planks. A kitchen she made from
25:35salvaged materials and the creek water
25:38pump. A wood stove she installed beside
25:40the old fireplace for more efficient
25:42heating. Bookshelves made from
25:44Milstone's packing crates she found in
25:46the basement. The chestnut floor glowed
25:50in the fire light. The eight windows
25:52looked out into the forest canopy from
25:55every direction. The creek murmured
25:58beneath her feet day and night, steady
26:00as a heartbeat. She started grinding
26:03corn. Pauline connected her with farmers
26:06in the valley who grew heirloom
26:08varieties of corn and wheat. They
26:10brought their grain to the trail head
26:12and Ren hiked it in 50 lbs at a time and
26:16grounded on the stones the way EMTT had
26:18for 40 years and his father had for 30
26:21years before that. The flower was
26:24extraordinary, coarse and golden and
26:27full of flavor, the kind of flour that
26:29tasted like the grain it came from
26:31instead of like nothing. Pauline sold it
26:34at the bakery. Honey and rice stone
26:37ground flour, $6 a pound, and it sold
26:40out every week. The people of the valley
26:43found her the way mountain people always
26:45find each other, slowly and through side
26:47channels. A farmer named Claude brought
26:50her a load of seed corn and stayed for
26:52coffee brewed on the wood stove, and
26:54told her about EMTT, about how the old
26:57man had ground grain for every family in
26:59the valley, and never charged more than
27:01a share of the flour. He said EMTT was
27:04the kind of man who measured his worth
27:06by how many people he could feed, which
27:09was a way of measuring that the world
27:10had mostly forgotten. He said the sound
27:13of the grinding stones used to carry
27:15down the valley on quiet mornings, and
27:17people would hear it from their porches
27:19and know that things were working the
27:21way they should. A woman named Fa, who
27:24was 84 and who had grown up on a farm
27:26three mi down the creek, hiked 2 mi up
27:29the trail on a Tuesday morning carrying
27:31a jar of sourwood honey because she had
27:34heard that someone was living in the
27:35Presley Mill again, and she wanted to
27:37see it with her own eyes. She wore
27:41rubber boots and a sun hat, and she
27:43wasn't even breathing hard when she
27:44arrived, which Ren found both impressive
27:47and slightly intimidating.
27:49FA stood in the millroom and watched the
27:52wheel turn and the stones grind. And she
27:54put her hand on the old granite and
27:56closed her eyes and stood that way for a
27:58long time, not speaking, just feeling
28:02the vibration of the stone through her
28:04palm. When she opened her eyes, they
28:07were wet. "That's the same sound," she
28:10said. "Exactly the same sound. I used to
28:14hear it from my bedroom window when I
28:16was a girl. My mother would send me up
28:18here with a sack of corn and I'd sit on
28:20that rock by the creek and wait while
28:22EMTT grounded. He always gave me a
28:24biscuit. She paused. I'm 84 years old
28:29and I can still taste that biscuit.
28:32Fa came back every 2 weeks after that,
28:35always with something. Honey, a jar of
28:38pickled ramps, a bag of dried apples,
28:40once a pair of wool socks she had
28:42knitted herself. She never called ahead
28:45because there was no way to call ahead.
28:47She just appeared on the trail, rubber
28:50boots and sun hat, carrying whatever she
28:52had decided to bring. Winter in the
28:55mountains was deep and quiet. The first
28:58snow came in early December and didn't
29:00fully melt until March. The creek ran
29:02slower, its edges frosted with thin ice
29:05that broke and reformed overnight. The
29:08forest went silent except for the
29:10occasional crack of a branch under the
29:12weight of snow and the far-off drumming
29:14of a woodpecker.
29:16The trail became harder to walk, the
29:18packed earth turning to frozen mud and
29:21then to snow that drifted 2 ft deep in
29:23places. Ren wore the wool socks Fay had
29:26knitted and boots she waterproofed with
29:28beeswax. and she walked the trail every
29:30few days for supplies, 2 mi each way,
29:34learning the rhythm of winter hiking the
29:36way she had learned the rhythm of
29:37everything else by doing it until it
29:39became natural. The millhouse held the
29:43cold well. The stone walls, 2 ft thick,
29:46were slow to cool and slow to warm,
29:49which meant the temperature inside
29:51stayed stable regardless of what was
29:53happening outside. The wood stove kept
29:56the upstairs room warm enough to sleep
29:58comfortably, even on nights when the
30:00temperature outside dropped to single
30:02digits. She burned oak and hickory she
30:05had cut and split in the fall, stacking
30:07it under a tarp beside the building. She
30:10learned to bank the fire at night and
30:12feed it in the morning and keep a pot of
30:14water on the stove at all times for tea
30:17and washing.
30:18On the coldest nights, she would lie in
30:21bed and listen to the creek. The sound
30:23changed in winter. It was lower,
30:26thicker, muffled by the ice, but it
30:29never stopped. Even when the temperature
30:32dropped below zero and the surface froze
30:34solid in places, she could hear the
30:36water moving underneath, insistent and
30:39constant, pushing through the dark. It
30:41was the most reliable sound she had ever
30:44heard, more reliable than any voice,
30:46more reliable than any promise.
30:50The creek kept going because that's what
30:52water does. It keeps going. One evening
30:55in late October, Ren sat on a flat rock
30:58beside the creek below the mill and
31:00watched the sun go down through the
31:02trees. The forest was on fire with
31:05color, the maples red, the poppplers
31:08gold, the oaks bronze. The creek caught
31:11the colors and carried them downstream
31:13in long, rippling streaks. The water
31:16wheel turned slowly behind her, creaking
31:19softly, pushing water off its paddles
31:21and silver arcs.
31:23Inside the mill house, the wood stove
31:26was burning, and the windows glowed warm
31:28amber against the darkening forest.
31:31She thought about EMTT Presley, who had
31:34run this mill for 40 years and hidden
31:36his savings under the floorboards in
31:38mason jars, who had written a letter in
31:41pencil and put it in a leather pouch and
31:44buried it in a crate and covered it with
31:46chestnut planks and walked out in 1958,
31:49knowing that someday someone would come.
31:53He hadn't known who, he hadn't known
31:56when, but he had trusted the stones. He
31:59had trusted the creek. He had trusted
32:02that a place built to feed people would
32:04always draw someone who needed to be
32:06fed. She thought about Dale, about the
32:09locked door in the garbage bag on the
32:11porch, about her mother, who had become
32:13invisible to survive, about Pauline, who
32:17had made toast and made phone calls and
32:19driven a bakery van to a courthouse in
32:21Marshall, so an 18-year-old girl she'd
32:24known for 2 years could buy a mill for
32:26$10.
32:27and she thought about what it means to
32:29be small. She had been small her whole
32:32life. Small and quiet and easy to
32:35overlook, but she was beginning to
32:37understand that small doesn't mean weak.
32:40The creek beside her was small, a narrow
32:43stream that you could jump across in
32:45most places, but it had been grinding
32:48grain for 150 years. It had been carving
32:52stone since before anyone built anything
32:54on its banks. It was patient and steady
32:57and it never stopped. And over time it
33:00had shaped the entire valley. That's the
33:03thing about water. It doesn't fight. It
33:05doesn't push. It just keeps going. It
33:08finds the path of least resistance and
33:11it follows it. And over years and
33:13decades and centuries, it changes the
33:16shape of the world. That's the thing
33:19about people like Ren. People who have
33:21been made small by someone else's anger
33:23or fear or indifference. They don't
33:26break. They flow. They find a way around
33:29the obstacle and they keep moving. And
33:32eventually, without anyone noticing,
33:34they build something that lasts. Ren
33:36Casey was 18 years old and thrown out.
33:40She had $10 to her name, and she spent
33:43it on a crumbling millhouse on a creek
33:45in the mountains of North Carolina. It
33:48was the best $10 she ever spent. If this
33:52story moved you, subscribe to the
33:54channel and share it with someone who
33:55needs to hear it. And tell us in the
33:57comments, what's a skill you taught
33:59yourself that changed your life. We'd
34:02love to hear your story. See you in the
34:04next one.

About this transcript

This page contains the full transcript of Thrown Out at 18, She Bought a $10 Mill House—What She Found Under the Floorboards Shocked Everyone by AC Harrison Stories, generated from the public captions YouTube serves with the video. The transcript has 5,648 words across 805 segments, with the original timestamps preserved so you can click any line to jump to that moment in the embedded player.

What you can do with it

Use the transcript to take notes, quote the speaker, build a study guide, generate a summary with ChatGPT or Claude via the YouTube Summary tool, or export it as a timed subtitle file with YouTube to SRT. You can also re-open it in the transcriber to choose a caption track available on the video.

Free YouTube transcript tool

YouTube2Text is a free YouTube transcript generator — no signup, no daily limit. Paste any YouTube link and get the full transcript instantly, with timestamps, click-to-jump, caption language selection, AI prompts for ChatGPT, Claude, and Gemini, and exports to TXT, SRT, VTT, or Markdown.