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Rated: E · Interactive · Fantasy · #1319012
It's up to Jessica to save Smuggler's Creek helped by a mysterious, disappearing boy.
Chapter #1

The Barmaid

    by: Catherine A. McIntyre
The morning fog covered the bay. The sea was calm, not a wave to be seen. The only movement was a soft breeze whistling through the trees. All was quiet in Smuggler's Cove on the cold, Thursday morning, the streets were bare in the little fisherman's village with the light wind dancing across the cobbles.

This was not to last as the small town hall began to announce 7:00 in its usual pompous way, its chimes ringing across the town. Jessica heard it. Loud and clear. Bringing news that it was time to wake up and get ready for her daily task of opening the local pub. She hadn't moved here to be a barmaid. Having only been in the town a few weeks she had already encountered three fish shortages, one marriage breakdown and six powercuts. Bartending wasn't what it cracked up to be, nor was the fresh sea air of the cove. Her dream was to be a teacher but these dreams were taking a long time to develop into reality so for now, she was settling with her steady job at the Rum Run.

The streets were still empty as she left the house, braving the bitter weather. It was always cold here and the fog never lifted, sweeping in from the sea. She had grown to like the mist, it gave an eerie feel to the village, as though it was hiding them from the rest of the world, their very own little village.

It was still quite early, the pub wouldn't have woken up yet so Jessica detoured while everyone was still out of the way. Beating the crowds she turned down Cobbler's Way, the street where the few shops the bay had were situated. There wasn't much here, in the way of anything, it was a very basic place but that's how everyone liked it.

She was just about to head back to the pub when she caught sight of a little shop, set back a little from the straight row of shops and houses. She had never noticed it before and it looked old and derelict. So small it was like a doll's house. She peered in through the grimy windows and could barely see anything but furniture piled high and huge portraits leaning against the walls. It was an antiques shop. But one like she had never seen before. Things here must have been dated beyond the Victorian era. She couldn't even begin to estimate how much the place must be worth.

The temptation was pulling her closer and closer towards the door but her shift started in 20 minutes and it took 15 to get there, let alone the 15 to set up.

Yet the shop seemed to call to her.
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