The Stinking Brewery – Sarah Lewin word count 879 – a writing challenge in a group I’m in

“It seemed like when it came to choosing clients, Vic Fallon had all the luck of the navigator on the Titanic.” I walked around the shiny metal vats where bespoke craft beers were busy percolating, listening to one of my favourite podcasts. I needed the distraction. My nose wrinkled at the yeast smell around me. I hate beer! When my husband Jack decided to open a bespoke craft brewery, I supported him. If I’d known he was going to run off with my sister Mabel I wouldn’t have been so accommodating.

“Mirabelle, come over here at once!” My sister-in-law Morag screeched in that voice of hers. She thought it was melodious, but to me she sounded like a cranky of hag. If it wasn’t bad enough that Jack ran away, but he left his money hungry sister in control of the brewery. For the tenth time in the last three hours, I wished I’d the courage to run away and leave her to it. That would mean leaving my only source of money behind as well. I flung my flaming red hair over my shoulders and marched towards my nemesis.

Morag, the blonde bombshell dressed in dangerously high heels and a tight-fitting white dress stood drumming her long manicured nails on the wooden bar. “Jack insisted you knew all about running this place, but I’m starting to have my doubts. Stop walking around in a daydream and set the tables. The beer is fine, the restaurant on the other hand, won’t get itself ready for the day.” She turned, tottering on her stupid shoes, and marched towards the office. “And bring me a hazelnut latte and a large slice of mud cake,” she yelled over her shoulder.

“Yes Morag, no Morag,” I muttered under my breath. The movement of my fingers was so slight the security cameras wouldn’t pick it up. I sniggered to myself as the ripple of air I let loose nearly knocked her off her feet. Morag recovered, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone noticed. Brent the barman, tall, broad shouldered with thick wavy brown hair was preoccupied getting the bar ready for the day. Charlie the cook had hidden in the kitchen when Morag first started screeching at me. I stomped over to the café area and made Morag’s order. I should spell her food or drink with some horrible potion.

I didn’t. Her magic was stronger than mine. Otherwise, nothing would make me stay here and live upstairs this awful place, with every memory of Jack’s betrayal glaring at me. Carrying the tray in front of me I marched into the office and slapped her order on the desk, without too much anger or she’d send me back to inventory the storeroom, again.

Morag knew of my fear of small spaces and took advantage of it every chance she got. She waved me away with her hand as she spoke into her mobile. I couldn’t be bothered listening, she was probably charming some poor sap out of all his money.

As I returned to the restaurant area, I snapped my fingers and the fireplace in the corner sprung to life. It was winter in Florida, but even with the mild temperatures, our customers loved to sit cozy around the open fire.

My heart jumped in happiness as I noticed the little old lady sitting at one of the tables near the window. The large glass windows of the brewery overlooked the beach, which looked inviting even in the depths of winter. Children ran through the surf while most adults stayed back a little. Joggers pounded along the firmer sand. Dogs and cyclists completed the feel of this large touristy town. We chose the location due to the influx of tourists all year around.

I slid into the seat across from my only living relative. “Auntie Gwen! It’s so good to see you.” I lowered my voice, remembering where we were. “How did you find me? It’s not safe here for you.” Morag would banish my aunt if she found her here. The only way Morag had power over me was because of a curse enacted by her and my traitorous sister.

“I’m here to free you from this prison,” she said. Aunt Gwen may be small in stature, but I’d not met a stronger mage. She raised her arms, crossing her hands together in front of her face. With one sharp downward motion, everything changed.

I blinked, and smiled, my face flushed with excitement. “Oh, Auntie Gwen, this is perfect!” In place of the stinking vats barrels of beer stood rows of bookshelves, brimming with books. The restaurant area was cozy, not stark and full of metal. Comfy sofas dotted around the edge of wooden tables with pale blue tablecloths. Matching blue cushions on the chairs. The menu board offered a range of sweet treats available at The Cozy Café. On the table in front of us, in a large ships bottle, sat a tiny shiny brewery, with a cranky little blonde doll. I clicked my fingers, and the bottle shrunk to the size of a large mug. I opened a large box on the bottom shelf of the closest bookcase and securely locked my past away. Let the next adventure begin.

## Written as part of a June writing challenge in a group I am part of.##