To Brew A Storm

TITLE: "To Brew A Storm"

AUTHOR: Breyana

ARTIST: Flavija P.

Lightning crackled and cracked in the air like gunshots—the loud, unending sound ringing throughout their ears. The brewery was dark and filled with a thick smoke unfurled from the cauldron. Within the cauldron, a storm was brewing—cups of cutting winds, splashes of misting rains, and pinches of bottled lightning.

A storm was brewing, and thus wreaking havoc in the room. The group of boys who thought of the potion, once laughing at the idea of unleashing it on unsuspecting classmates, now shrieked in terror. Loud cracks and claps split open their ears as a few of them tried to hide beneath the spare desks that remained undamaged. 

Half-yelled complaints and reprimands and ‘this is your fault!’ were thrown about. However, it didn’t matter as the sound within the room was earsplitting with whipping winds and loud slaps of rain falling in sheets, making the room half-flooded and deadly. The boys, much too desperate to survive, could only attempt to run to the door. However, the door was blocked with a thrown table and a slim margin was left to squeeze through.

Seemingly all bearing the same idea, they all ran to the door. Slipping and pushing, splashing and coughing, the boys' plans were not looking successful in the slightest. When suddenly a giant clap of thunder ripped through the room, hitting the desk near the door setting it aflame, there was no choice but to be successful.

With large eyes and gaping mouths, one of the boys, young and prideful, the one who initially recommended the prank, decided it was the survival of the fittest. Thus with this belief he grabbed his wand and without hesitation humbly sacrificed his friend. The friend with a great dislike of water and greater disdain for fire screamed curses and yanked on his collar to take him down with him. 

The other boys stopped their scampering to watch what appeared to be a slap fight, as neither boy remembered the wands that were in their pockets. One boy suggested stopping them while the other boy simply laughed, enjoying  the fight. It wasn’t until a shoe, taken off to be used as a weapon, got thrown at the laughing boy did he jump in. Now nervous and feeling remorse for not breaking the fight sooner, the last boy follows. 

Water fills the room higher and higher as it continues to rain. The windows shatter and crack under the punishing weight of swirling winds. Lightning and thunder dance together, setting fire to all that is touched. Unnoticed by the boys, who were too busy fighting each other. 

When a loud bang sounds from the door, only then do they stop. At the door stood a teacher, sullen-faced and exhausted as the boys were her students and her paycheck will be cut to pay for expenses. With a stern expression wrinkling her face and a terse nod of her head, the boys immediately straighten themselves as she pulls out her wand to attempt to unravel the raging monstrosity they had created.

In the midst of muttered curses, prayers on the boys’ inevitable downfall, and woes of why she chose this job, the teacher unravels the storm. The room is left an utter wreckage of soaked books and papers, chipped and broken furniture, and piles of shattered glass, mixed with the dust of the cracking walls. The teacher doesn’t have to speak for them to immediately stand and begin cleaning.

As she leaves with a disappointed but expected shake of her head, the boys look at each other. Before a great welling of amusement burst in their chests. Soon the room was filled with the sounds of laughter accompanied by the splashing of rainwater and the crunching of glass beneath their feet.