Mistvale's Brew

Part 1

Prologue

This is for Mikeydred's November prompt and L.C.Schafer's Dollar Challenge

"Rebellion and revenge are best kept cold." -Michelle Liew

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The fog that surrounded Mistvale never seemed to lift. Its people griped continually that it was a dead town with bare walls and corridors - unoccupied houses, unoccupied people. Fog and mist clung to the town as a second skin.

Mistvalians hence lived humdrum lives, conformists to routine. It was school, then work; there wasn’t a need for a cinema bo because no one dared to watch movies that their government censured. They were too afraid of the Mistavlian priests, famous for their spiked gavels and out-of-the-box questioning techniques; these stalwarts instilled fear that enveloped Mistvale in a cloak of darkness.

Mira, a young barista at the Foggy Mug, dragged a teaspoon through the concoction that she had just dreamt up. She stirred and stirred, but the brew still appeared diluted; she had to find some way to make nearly everyone’s favourite beverage more appetizing. It didn’t help that the cafe’s current owner, Jiro was afraid of government censure and wouldn’t alter anything on his menu. He didn’t allow his brews to veer from their bland norm. His coffee was lukewarm water without grounds- like the spirit of its people. Jiro would often chide Mira for adding milk caricatures to the coffee.

“Mira, stop what you’re doing or you’ll lose your job!”

Mira had always been artistic - the unconventional Barista, feeling tied down by the town’s oppressive aura, loved decorating cups of coffee with animal caricatures, all exquisitely formed with warm milk. The unconventional hobby was keeping her restless hands occupied one afternoon when she overheard customers discussing Eliza.

“Remember that female owner of the Foghorn on the outskirts of town? I hear she’s passed. Seems that she haunts the place.” A customer gossiped in low tones.

“Yeah, I remember her. She used to drum up this concoction that would light up Mistvale. Perhaps she’s just what this place needs.”

Mira sat up. Indeed, Eliza could be the caffeine zest that the Foggy Mug and Mistvale needed.

“Could someone bring that brew back? Maybe you, Mira?” Patrons turned to gaze at her.

She looked for this elusive spirit a few days later.

Part 2

The restrictive norms of Mistvale proved no match for Mira’s curiosity. Not being able to withstand its pull, Mira went to the Foghorn The cafe had known glory days, with neatly upholstered barstools, a dartboard that seemed almost new and liquor cabinets that were still full. She sat at an empty table, not sure where to begin her search for Eliza.

It wasn’t long before the tables in the cafe rattled and filled up with mist. Then a female figure took form. It was, Mira assumed, Eliza.

I guess you’ve heard of me." The spirit greeted the stunned barista. “I’m Eliza. My coffee was once legendary around these parts.” She paused. “The brew was so powerful that people called me their shot of expresso - it brought so much energy that people would get into fights on the streets. The Mistvale police had trouble keeping people in their cells.”

So uncontrolled was Mistvalian society that its elders hatched a plan - one that involved Eliza’s murder. “They thought killing me would get rid of the magical brew and bring order to Mistvale.”

Then, Eliza’s eyes shone with a wicked gleam that petrified Mira. “I want you to brew my coffee once more. It’s what this town needs to reawaken.”

That proved tempting for Mira, who wanted the dullness in Mistvale to end more than anyone. But she felt torn -she wanted to break free but feared the chaos that would reign.

Part 3

The desire for freedom won. Mira decided to brew Eliza’s special blend and bring it to the patrons of the Foggy Mug. She started the process under Eliza’s watchful eye.

“That’s it......get the balance of water and coffee beans exactly right.......”

As Mira brewed the life-breathing concoction, she showed Mira images- pictures of how the town could rise from its lifeless lull, with joyous parties taking place on the streets.

But as the parties broke into fistfights, Mira came to a realisation. As she took in Eliza’s pictures, she knew the ghost didn’t just want the town to become lively. She wanted revenge for her wrongful death. And she intended to get it by unleashing true, unbridled chaos, brought on by a sudden surge of emotion.

She confronted Eliza. “All this...” she gestured to the images of people pushing each other on the streets. “All this is just you wanting to get back at the Mistvalian elders for what happened to you. You don’t want to bring new life to the town - you want revenge!”

Eliza turned to her, her face breaking into a cold sneer. Mira understood.

With moments to decide, she changed Eliza’s recipe, using beans that were far milder than Eliza's. The new brew lifted Mistvale, being quiet, aromatic and enriching. She tried every bean there was in the kitchen.

But Eliza resisted, taking on a more menacing form. “You can't change my brew - I took years to develop this!” Her form flew towards Mira, its teeth gnarled. The ground in the pub quaked uncontrollably. Spoons and forks trembled on tables.

Mira, however, drummed up the courage she didn’t know she had. She fought the desire to give in - that the new brew would be too weak, would not suffice. With a swift flick of her wrist, she carried the pot containing Eliza’s brew and splashed it on her.

Eliza’s form slowly flickered, its menace waning.

Part 4

With the change in the brew, Eliza disappeared. Mira brought the fresh drink to the Foggy Mug. As more patrons drank the concoction, the people came to life - they sought lively activities and made new goals. The fog around Mistvale lifted.

Eliza never appeared in the cafe again. She had found peace, leaving only a lingering warmth behind, and Mira brewing coffee with a warm smile.