Today was supposed to be the day where the entire staff started harvesting the ripe grapes. But now they were all standing in front of the Winery, having absolutely no idea what to do. Syrah, one among many, stood and awaited directions from Jonathon Black. He stood upon a few stacked crates, in sight of everyone. His booming voice could be heard throughout the crowd. Everyone knew what he was about to say could not be good.
At the beginning of Spring last season a storm shook Riverfall. A wrath of the Gods spilled out onto the land. It infected almost everything it touched and the citizens had to take cover underground. The storm lasted the entire first day of Spring and when the people came back up, everything had changed. Most buildings were reduced to rubble, weird, new, mutated creatures had arisen and the grapes in the vineyards had been overcome with a disease. Wizards and philterers had all been hired to try and fix the grapes. Try to make the now yellowed fruit not make the eater sick. Try to make the sickly bubbles on the delicate leaves vanish. Nothing had worked and the grapes were no longer usable in the wine.
All the murmurs of the fate of the business stopped when Blacks voice sounded over theirs. “We all know of the Djed storm of Spring. We all know the effects it had on our grapes. We all know that the efforts we made to fix it did not work. And now I assume we all know what has to be done.” He paused as most employees nodded their heads. Syrah stayed still, not wanting to assume anything. “On the wall just inside the doors you will be papers hung up. Each paper has a list of names, your names, and an assigned section of the vineyards. After finding your name and section, gather the appropriate tools and head out. We will be ripping the plants out and they will be through away. Put the plants in piles and some of you will be assigned to pick those up and put them somewhere else.” The crowd stayed silent, Syrah shoulders slumped with defeat. “Good luck.” Black concluded, stepped off the crates and headed back inside.
Luckily less than half of the vines had been hit with the storm. Plus to cover the vines that they would soon be trashing, there was a batch of saplings that had not been affected because they had been undercover of the green house. Unfortunately it would be another year before they could be harvested. They would be new wine this year, Syrah concluded, but they would loose a lot. She didn’t know how this would affect the Winery in the future, but she knew their loss in revenue would be significant.
Syrah had to push her way through the mass of big blue boys that surrounded the papers until she was up front. Most men didn’t complain, they were so much taller than her and Syrah had to look up to see the papers. Luckily her name was at the bottom of a page.
Syrah Steele – Upper Right Blue
Was Jonathon that cruel? Syrah almost laughed. The entire Vineyard was sorted by the color of the grapes, and then each color section was dived into four squares of its own. Syrah was assigned to the blue grapes, the very grapes that aided in the creation of her fathers’ wine, Bluevein Steele. Of course the blue grapes, also were made into Bluevein Pride, Blood, Floral, Emerald, Sapphire and Amethyst, Syrah only saw the cruel irony in the assignment. (Each different species of grape had a more specified name other their color, but sections are divided by final grape color)
Syrah set off to the tool shed thinking only how she would have to rip up her father’s vines and what he would do if he knew. Once their she packed her back with gloves, garden clippers, a mini shovel and carried a regular size shovel in her hand. She started making her way across the vineyards passing already working staff. No one she passed was smiling or laughing. No one had pep in their movements. Everyone here had a passion for these grapes and no one was happy about this turn of events.
Syrah had two partners in her section to help her with the clearing, one of them, a large purple-ish Akalak, was already working and had pulled about two vines. Her other partner had yet to arrive. She bent down to the root of the plant and began digging out the roots with her small shovel. Pulling the vine would result in a rip of the roots and would just be harder on everyone. The roots had to be dug out before removed. Her partner was doing the same.
She looked over at him. “How bad do you think it’s going to be?” She asked the Akalak. He just shrugged, gave her a worried look and went back to work. Everyone was worried about job losses. If they lost money because of this, people being laid off could be expected. Syrah worried the most; she was one of the newest employees. When push comes to shove, the newbies are thrown away. Staff who had been here for years had more status than a one-seasoner. Syrah tried to focus on her work more.
She looked up to the bundle of diseased grapes. She remembered the workers calling in sick after experimenting with these grapes by eating them. It caused only nausea but left the recipient in bed for at least a week. She had those sick yellow, brown dotted grapes burned in her mind. They all looked the same. How all the leaves had puss bubbles the spewed oil when popped. It was really bad and on all the plants. They couldn’t be cured.
She wondered how so many different species of plant could all be affected in the same exact way. Syrah reached up to one grape and plucked it off its stem. She examined it, it looked different. Realization hit her like a rock. These grapes were not yellow, they were black. At first she thought they were dead, but no. These grapes were…these grapes were ripe. She shot up off the ground. Her partner looked up at her with a confused look. Putting the black grape in the middle of her palm she slit it open with the tip of her shovel. The skin resisted then failed under the pressure and split. Dark red juice spilled out onto her palm and she saw the dark flesh inside. It looked healthy. It didn’t looked diseased, it looked like an extra dark, mutated grape.
Mutated, that’s what the storm did, it mutated living things. Like it mutated those birds and the vines into yellow grapes. It did something different to these ones. But how was she to know if they were really sick or not? Well the only way to tell is the same way to tell if the other grapes were. To eat them.
She dropped her shovel and plucked one half of the grape out of her palm, and then she stuck it in her mouth.
“Hey! What are you doing?” The Akalak yelled then rushed over. For all her knew these would make her sick. One less person to help with the job. Syrah ignored him and let him watch. Each person that had tried this before has described an instant acidic taste in their mouth and a slight burning sensation. This isn’t what Syrah felt. Instead she tasted colors. She felt the coolness of the inside of the grape. The juice spread inside her mouth taking its unique flavor with it. It tasted like different berries; it tasted like sugar and herbs. It was indescribable. It was the weirdest thing she had ever tasted. She began to think of the possibilities with this grape, she got lost in the thought. She got lost in its taste and only came back out when the Akalak shook her, wondering how she felt.
Syrah looked at him. She smiled a huge grin and hugged him. He stumbled back and she yelled at him, “We are saved!” He looked at her confused. Syrah didn’t skip a beat. “Don’t you dare pull up any more of these vines!”
She had to tell the rest of the section. She started running.
She ran through the rows of blue grapes, pausing when she got to another worker. Quickly she examined the grapes then repeated her order to the worker. Her tone of voice and natural intimidation made them obey. After she had finished yelling at all the blue grape workers she ran towards the winery. Most of the staff paid no attention to her as she ran past them.
She sprinted through the great wooden doors of the Winery and burst through the small door that entered into Jonathon Blacks office. He looked up at her surprised. His head had been buried in papers, probably trying to calculate their loss. Syrah stood there heaving. “The grapes…the blue grapes.” Syrah gasped. She stopped, Black looked at her confused. She waited her her breath to recover then spoke again. “The blue grapes, all of them. They are not bad! They changed into a new kind! They are okay! We are okay! We have new things to do!”
She spoke too fast for Jonathon to understand. “Child,” he said to Syrah, “Slow down, what are you speaking of? What about the blue section?”
Syrah slowed down. “We thought that all the grapes were bad, right? They all turned yellow and made anyone who ate them sick. But I looked at the grapes in my section. At first I thought they were dead. But they are alive; they are just a new black color! The Djed storm turned all the blue grapes into a new kind, a new species. I ate one; I can’t even explain how it tasted.” Syrah opened her clenched hand and revealed the other have of the grape she ate and handed it to Black.
He examined it, its new color and the little black seeds and red juice inside. He looked up at her gave her a look, “Syrah if you make me sick…” Then he popped it inside his mouth. His face instantly relaxed and he was visibly savoring the taste. After a minute he looked back up at her, “Blue section?” he asked. Syrah nodded. Black jumped up at rushed out of his office.
10 minutes later everyone was gathered in front of the Winery again and Jonathon was standing on the very same crates. “A mutation has been discovered among the blue grapes. As it turns out, these grapes were not affected the same as all the others.” It was so quiet not even breathing could be heard. Jonathon then lifted his hand and held up a bundle of black grapes. “In the midst of all the destruction the Gods gifted us with something to be happy about. Those of you assigned in the blue section, stop pulling. Instead start harvesting. Everyone else continue clearing. I will be inside creating a new kind of a wine. Good luck.” Black ended and stepped down.
The someone called out, “What’s its name?”
Black replied, “Godspirit.”
At the beginning of Spring last season a storm shook Riverfall. A wrath of the Gods spilled out onto the land. It infected almost everything it touched and the citizens had to take cover underground. The storm lasted the entire first day of Spring and when the people came back up, everything had changed. Most buildings were reduced to rubble, weird, new, mutated creatures had arisen and the grapes in the vineyards had been overcome with a disease. Wizards and philterers had all been hired to try and fix the grapes. Try to make the now yellowed fruit not make the eater sick. Try to make the sickly bubbles on the delicate leaves vanish. Nothing had worked and the grapes were no longer usable in the wine.
All the murmurs of the fate of the business stopped when Blacks voice sounded over theirs. “We all know of the Djed storm of Spring. We all know the effects it had on our grapes. We all know that the efforts we made to fix it did not work. And now I assume we all know what has to be done.” He paused as most employees nodded their heads. Syrah stayed still, not wanting to assume anything. “On the wall just inside the doors you will be papers hung up. Each paper has a list of names, your names, and an assigned section of the vineyards. After finding your name and section, gather the appropriate tools and head out. We will be ripping the plants out and they will be through away. Put the plants in piles and some of you will be assigned to pick those up and put them somewhere else.” The crowd stayed silent, Syrah shoulders slumped with defeat. “Good luck.” Black concluded, stepped off the crates and headed back inside.
Luckily less than half of the vines had been hit with the storm. Plus to cover the vines that they would soon be trashing, there was a batch of saplings that had not been affected because they had been undercover of the green house. Unfortunately it would be another year before they could be harvested. They would be new wine this year, Syrah concluded, but they would loose a lot. She didn’t know how this would affect the Winery in the future, but she knew their loss in revenue would be significant.
Syrah had to push her way through the mass of big blue boys that surrounded the papers until she was up front. Most men didn’t complain, they were so much taller than her and Syrah had to look up to see the papers. Luckily her name was at the bottom of a page.
Syrah Steele – Upper Right Blue
Was Jonathon that cruel? Syrah almost laughed. The entire Vineyard was sorted by the color of the grapes, and then each color section was dived into four squares of its own. Syrah was assigned to the blue grapes, the very grapes that aided in the creation of her fathers’ wine, Bluevein Steele. Of course the blue grapes, also were made into Bluevein Pride, Blood, Floral, Emerald, Sapphire and Amethyst, Syrah only saw the cruel irony in the assignment. (Each different species of grape had a more specified name other their color, but sections are divided by final grape color)
Syrah set off to the tool shed thinking only how she would have to rip up her father’s vines and what he would do if he knew. Once their she packed her back with gloves, garden clippers, a mini shovel and carried a regular size shovel in her hand. She started making her way across the vineyards passing already working staff. No one she passed was smiling or laughing. No one had pep in their movements. Everyone here had a passion for these grapes and no one was happy about this turn of events.
Syrah had two partners in her section to help her with the clearing, one of them, a large purple-ish Akalak, was already working and had pulled about two vines. Her other partner had yet to arrive. She bent down to the root of the plant and began digging out the roots with her small shovel. Pulling the vine would result in a rip of the roots and would just be harder on everyone. The roots had to be dug out before removed. Her partner was doing the same.
She looked over at him. “How bad do you think it’s going to be?” She asked the Akalak. He just shrugged, gave her a worried look and went back to work. Everyone was worried about job losses. If they lost money because of this, people being laid off could be expected. Syrah worried the most; she was one of the newest employees. When push comes to shove, the newbies are thrown away. Staff who had been here for years had more status than a one-seasoner. Syrah tried to focus on her work more.
She looked up to the bundle of diseased grapes. She remembered the workers calling in sick after experimenting with these grapes by eating them. It caused only nausea but left the recipient in bed for at least a week. She had those sick yellow, brown dotted grapes burned in her mind. They all looked the same. How all the leaves had puss bubbles the spewed oil when popped. It was really bad and on all the plants. They couldn’t be cured.
She wondered how so many different species of plant could all be affected in the same exact way. Syrah reached up to one grape and plucked it off its stem. She examined it, it looked different. Realization hit her like a rock. These grapes were not yellow, they were black. At first she thought they were dead, but no. These grapes were…these grapes were ripe. She shot up off the ground. Her partner looked up at her with a confused look. Putting the black grape in the middle of her palm she slit it open with the tip of her shovel. The skin resisted then failed under the pressure and split. Dark red juice spilled out onto her palm and she saw the dark flesh inside. It looked healthy. It didn’t looked diseased, it looked like an extra dark, mutated grape.
Mutated, that’s what the storm did, it mutated living things. Like it mutated those birds and the vines into yellow grapes. It did something different to these ones. But how was she to know if they were really sick or not? Well the only way to tell is the same way to tell if the other grapes were. To eat them.
She dropped her shovel and plucked one half of the grape out of her palm, and then she stuck it in her mouth.
“Hey! What are you doing?” The Akalak yelled then rushed over. For all her knew these would make her sick. One less person to help with the job. Syrah ignored him and let him watch. Each person that had tried this before has described an instant acidic taste in their mouth and a slight burning sensation. This isn’t what Syrah felt. Instead she tasted colors. She felt the coolness of the inside of the grape. The juice spread inside her mouth taking its unique flavor with it. It tasted like different berries; it tasted like sugar and herbs. It was indescribable. It was the weirdest thing she had ever tasted. She began to think of the possibilities with this grape, she got lost in the thought. She got lost in its taste and only came back out when the Akalak shook her, wondering how she felt.
Syrah looked at him. She smiled a huge grin and hugged him. He stumbled back and she yelled at him, “We are saved!” He looked at her confused. Syrah didn’t skip a beat. “Don’t you dare pull up any more of these vines!”
She had to tell the rest of the section. She started running.
She ran through the rows of blue grapes, pausing when she got to another worker. Quickly she examined the grapes then repeated her order to the worker. Her tone of voice and natural intimidation made them obey. After she had finished yelling at all the blue grape workers she ran towards the winery. Most of the staff paid no attention to her as she ran past them.
She sprinted through the great wooden doors of the Winery and burst through the small door that entered into Jonathon Blacks office. He looked up at her surprised. His head had been buried in papers, probably trying to calculate their loss. Syrah stood there heaving. “The grapes…the blue grapes.” Syrah gasped. She stopped, Black looked at her confused. She waited her her breath to recover then spoke again. “The blue grapes, all of them. They are not bad! They changed into a new kind! They are okay! We are okay! We have new things to do!”
She spoke too fast for Jonathon to understand. “Child,” he said to Syrah, “Slow down, what are you speaking of? What about the blue section?”
Syrah slowed down. “We thought that all the grapes were bad, right? They all turned yellow and made anyone who ate them sick. But I looked at the grapes in my section. At first I thought they were dead. But they are alive; they are just a new black color! The Djed storm turned all the blue grapes into a new kind, a new species. I ate one; I can’t even explain how it tasted.” Syrah opened her clenched hand and revealed the other have of the grape she ate and handed it to Black.
He examined it, its new color and the little black seeds and red juice inside. He looked up at her gave her a look, “Syrah if you make me sick…” Then he popped it inside his mouth. His face instantly relaxed and he was visibly savoring the taste. After a minute he looked back up at her, “Blue section?” he asked. Syrah nodded. Black jumped up at rushed out of his office.
10 minutes later everyone was gathered in front of the Winery again and Jonathon was standing on the very same crates. “A mutation has been discovered among the blue grapes. As it turns out, these grapes were not affected the same as all the others.” It was so quiet not even breathing could be heard. Jonathon then lifted his hand and held up a bundle of black grapes. “In the midst of all the destruction the Gods gifted us with something to be happy about. Those of you assigned in the blue section, stop pulling. Instead start harvesting. Everyone else continue clearing. I will be inside creating a new kind of a wine. Good luck.” Black ended and stepped down.
The someone called out, “What’s its name?”
Black replied, “Godspirit.”
