The Cargo Port

The night air smiled of burning torches covered under a wet blanket, there was also the stench of fish and clam. And far from the shore was the sound of the seagull, crying for its midnight snacks. It certainly felt like that when there was a mist that had hindered lights from the lamps, and invaded the small cargo port, causing a sudden decease in visibility. The shoreline, paved with shiny cobble stone, shone with the radiance of the moon, was uncomfortably bright. The star above hadn't matured, it was a bitten cookies at best.

The light tower swept its strong undulated beam in the mist. It didn't shy from the dense white vapors, and went against it instead.

This cargo port was originally built in the 80s by the English for shipping herbs and hemp, it had that scent remained in its surrounding as people kept rebuilding with its earlier style in mind, partly to preserve such a lovely, rustic place, partly to go along with people's craving--the oldies that play tricks on memory. A place that could lure someone to recall or remember the past is a place of commercial value, and it remained true even to the end of the time.

And the first person who spotted this opportunity after the cargo port was abandoned in the late 90s because of the financial crisis's ripple effect, was Mr. Carlos Goodwin from the Far South. He had served as a sailor on many cargo ships and visited this cargo port for many times, but each and every time he came running down the ship, this little stretch of place always reminded him of an age of something greater. Maybe it was because of the books he read when growing up, or rather, his father had read to him when he was younger. There were books that were mostly fictional but had captured the heart of the old English. In those books, these port, some built along the shoreline, some set aside in a wide stream that lead into the ocean, had exactly what this tiny cargo port carried.

The barrels, the thick ropes, the oil lamps, the torches, and the wet cobble stone pavement.

It lacked something when Mr. Goodwin brought the land. Something that's so magical it would change the world. Beer, of course it would be beer. A pub at the port, a place for those filthy sailor to cramp together and spread out that familiar stench under the deck.

For half a year, the cargo port had transformed from an abandoned site to a holiday attraction for family and friends. Mr. Goodwin hired full-time performers that basically dressed in the costume of the old time sailor, and leashed a dozen shop to pub owners, new or old, to operate under his property.

Soon, everybody knew of the place, a place simply knew as the Cargo Port.