The sun-drenched market square was abuzz with the sounds of laughter and haggling. Madame Dupont’s boutique offered an array of fine wines. But one phial was unlike any other. “Le Vin de la Vie” she called it. Syrah illicitly grown in the heart of Bordeaux. Hints of dried lavender, chocolate truffle, and tanned leather, tempted the tastebuds of passerby. It’s bouquet of black cherry and dried sage undertones enticing customers. But beneath the markets jovial surface, a sinister presence lurked. The French catacombs, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels, lay hidden – its dark energies seeping into the world above.

As the sun began to set, casting a blood orange hue on the horizon, Monsieur LeFleur’s curiosity started to best him.  He desired to sample the rich flavors of the Madam’s secret elixir. As he raised the glass to his lips, the air seemed to thicken, and shadows deepened. The first sip was a symphony of blueberry syrup, plum, and blackberry cordial on the palate. But as he swallowed, a sudden chill ran down his spine. The world around him began to blur, and he felt himself being pulled downward, into the depths of the earth. The ground gave way and a slate slab slid open, wafting up the scent of venison blood and wild boar sausage. “The wine has chosen you,” she whispered, her voice like a sigh from beyond the grave. “You will join the others, forever trapped.”

notes by thomas cherry, master cellar rat