The sun was high up in the sky on this cool spring day. It’s bright rays illuminating the path as a lone figure slowly trodded across the dirt, observing the juicy, red grapes growing on the vines.

The young man wondered why the place was so empty. All of these ripe berries were ready to be picked and yet no other soul was in sight. As he made his way closer to the small cabin that rested in the center of the vineyard he could see someone standing in the porch, the face obscured by the shadows of the cowboy hat.

“Hello there!” The young man called out.

He received no answer.

The silent person made their way inside the house but deliberately left the door ajar. The young man, perplexed and curious, made his way to the cabin and up onto the porch. He remained there for a few moments, considering whether or not he should leave the presumed owner of the vineyard alone.

Right as he turned to walk away, he heard a blood curdling scream. It sounded like a woman, but the person who had been here just a few moments ago had almost certainly been a man. Fueled by adrenaline, he ran.

Not away from the cabin, but inside.

Glancing around the room fervently, he found nothing that could have been the cause of the noise. Hearing the scream a second time, the young man followed the source of the sound to a small wooden trapdoor on the floor near the kitchen. His hands shook as he stared in silence at the barrier separating him from whatever lay under the cabin.

Turning to face the door in a last attempt to convince himself he would not be cowardly for running for help, his eyes caught a glimpse of silver light reflecting off a kitchen knife.

Steeling his nerves, he grabbed the knife that, upon closer inspection was a bit bloodied, and crouched down to the floor, yanking open the door.

It looked dark.

It was quiet.

He no longer heard a scream, only the stairs creaking as he ever so slowly made his way further into the darkness. He thought back on how his day began. He had wanted to go sightseeing and he loved wine, so visiting the vineyard was an idea he had come up with to kill two birds with one stone.

Although, he knows not all vineyards sell wine, this particular one was known for its beautiful sight and affordable winery. Perhaps he should’ve been more cautious when he saw that no one else was there besides him and the owner. And apparently a third person, that being the woman whom he had heard scream.

The young man stopped moving when he heard a noise behind him. It was dark and he couldn’t see, but that also meant he couldn’t be seen, or so he hoped.

He suddenly saw his own shadow appear in front of him as a light turned on behind him. His heart began to hammer in his chest and blood rushed through his ears, the sound accompanied by heavy breathing.

He heard a step. Then two more.

He turned suddenly and came face to face with the person he had seen earlier, taller in person, but face still shrouded in the dark.

He held two cups in his hands and first offered one out to the young man, and then the other.

The young man extended one shaking hand towards the cup in the left and brought it to himself. He couldn’t bring himself to speak or break the silence.

The other man lifted his own cup in a saluting gesture and drank, the faint smell of wine in the air. There was a glint in his barely visible eyes as he gestured for the young man to drink as well.

And he did drink.

Too overwhelmed by the fear and uncertainty he felt at the moment, he did not smell it until he could taste it.

What was in his cup was not wine.

The knife slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, shattering the silence, breaking whatever trance the young man had fallen under. He ran.

He ran up the stairs, out of the kitchen, past the porch and out into the vineyard. He don’t look back. He never went back.

But he would never forget the scream he heard.

He would never forget the glint in that other man’s eyes.

He would never forget the blood he tasted, or how he very well could have been next.