The Old Mill Chapter 1

The Old Mill A renovacy made by Jessabeans as a gift to SamelaRita for the Sims 3Amayzing gift exchange.
Link to the renovacy here: https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9309941
And a link to the renovacy rules in case anyone else wants to play it!
https://forums.thesims.com/en_US/discussion/920867/the-renovacy-challenge-a-new-and-short-challenge/p1 I satnd on a headland. The water rises here, turns my wheel so I can grind. I am old. Old and strong, and I have sheltered many, fed many. But time has turned like my wheel and I, who have protected others, have been abandoned to decay. Can buildings weep? you ask. I know I do. Gutted and alone, the seagulls’ harsh cries match my heart’s cry. Until, one day, hope walked through my doorway and up my stairs. And strength cast his line into my waters. And joy laughed in the empty chambers of my heart. And as strength attacked the filth of ages, and hope gave joy words to use, my heart lifted, my heart lifted. I know this story. I’ve seen it so many times before. My walls will shelter this new one too. The pieces of paper make hope sad. I wish I could comfort her. But strength enfolds her in his arms, assures her that all will be well. Daybreak, dawn, and a new life breaking into being as well. They worry. I hear them. Joy still laughs, secure and unafraid, but hope is losing hope and strength is doubting himself. The garden grows slowly, but inside nothing is better. Their daybreak daughter cries and hope is sadness. They are selling things – the curtains, some of the kitchen furniture. And I am sad too. I fear that they will leave. The pieces of paper make hope sad again. The weeds have gone from inside me. And joy makes music rise up through me. I hear their voices – hope uncertain at first, strength’s reassuring rumble. He caught many fish today, the garden grows well, they are getting by. They eat their food together and hope grows more cheerful. I wish I could speak. Meanwhile, joy gazes up, up, up, through the heart of me. I see them below me in a little island of light. I want them to stay. The red papers go back in the box. This is a victory, I know. They are holding their ground. Fire! Fire threatens me and those I shelter. While hope runs for the children, strength attacks the flames. The stove is ruined, the floor is blackened, and hope gazes sadly at the mess. I have survived and so have they, but this is not forwards. This is backwards. Will they give up now and leave? Will I be emptier than before?