The sun hung low over the sprawling hills, casting shadows across the neatly lined rows of grapevines. Matthew stepped out of his car, the gravel crunching beneath his feet, and looked around. The vineyard was oddly silent, no workers pruning vines, no laughter, no voices. Just rows of dark, glistening grapes swaying in the breeze.

He nearly turned back until a voice called out, smooth and liltin...

It was late when my rental car broke down in the middle of Italian wine country. I had no cell reception. I thought that only happened in bad horror movies.

I left the little blue car, and started walking. I was thankful that I'd worn my sneakers instead of high heels.

When I reached a lane branching off the main road, I followed it and at last came to a house and outbuildings. The house was low...

The vineyard was large, lanes just wide enough to have trucks pass through picking up the baskets. The once lush vines now bare and stiff as the cold november air drifts through each row. I was sent here under the request of my superior, sending me the location and instructed to be here before sunset. The case had gone cold 3 months ago, and our crime scene was contaminated thanks to harvest sesao...

Grapes lined the vines that twisted up the side of the trellis, protecting the deck overlooking the vineyard from the sun. As I sat staring out into the vast field trying to think of anything but how bad the past year has been, I used the Veiled Valley Cellars house pinot noir to drown out my thoughts.

I had to get anyway from my apartment which I was forced into after I caught my dirt bag of a ...

“The storm has flooded the river”,

Said Lord Vincent....

Paul stopped his blue VW Polo in front of the wrought iron gate. As he took his arm out to press the button, he scrutinised the intricate leaves chiselled to the smallest detail in the massive gate. It was as if he was trying to extract answers from them.

He was visiting the local vineyard, whose wine everybody claimed to be the best the world had ever tasted. Cape wine and Porto wine were mere ...

I was hiking for most of a day before I got to the top of the hill.

I went by myself; my friend broke his ankle at the beach last week. We both knew it would put a sudden stop to our plans so he took a bus home. We’d been all over the continent together, and we were gutted he couldn’t make the final stretch of the journey.

As I stepped to the end of the path, I could see the sea.

In the distan...

Poppy has been driving since she left home this morning, it’s now 2pm she thinks to herself next gas station/shop or anything remotely has drinks n food oohh n most importantly rest rooms as she chuckles at her self for a second. Just as she’d chuckled one yard infront of her drawing closer on the left hand side was what looks to be some kind of alcohol making place, with a big sigh she follows by...

The vineyard

So quiet

Silent grapes

No such riot...

The gate was secured with a weathered padlock the size of a fist. A hand painted sign told him that this was the Steeple Vineyard and that it was open weekdays, 9am till 5pm. But the paint was peeling and the gate shut. Beyond was a gravel track quickly lost in the vines. A walk wouldn't be so bad though. When the sun broke through the clouds it gave a flash of midsummer warmth. David was a big m...