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 distance but closer and on land, I could see what must be what I came here for.

There’s a wine; the grapes for it only grow in one place, and nowhere else in the world. There are several imitations of it and while some are close in taste and smell, nothing quite matches the distinct sweet bitterness of the wine from the hills.

I’ve only tried it once before, and that was just a sip.

A few years ago, the owner took it off the market for some reason. No-one knows why. It’s a small company; he’s also the grower, distiller, and he bottles the wine. It’s still available under the counter, or from the man himself.

I looked in every direction, I couldn’t see any sign of activity. Silence hung in the air as I approached the vineyard.

‘Hello. Can I help?’ There was a man on a step-ladder behind the first row of grape trees.

I swung around, startled because I never saw or heard him before he spoke. ‘Hi. I was told about the wine. I was on a walk near here so I thought I’d come this way and see’.

‘No problem, I’m glad to have some company,’ he said. ‘Sit yourself down on the chairs by the house over there, I’ll be finished here in a few minutes.’

I walked towards the house and I looked at the countryside surrounding me. I’d love to live here, so quiet and peaceful. When I settle down, I’ll want to be somewhere as secluded.

I sat on a chair and put my backpack on the table. I looked at the man and admired the contentedness that exuded from him. I imagined he lives a life of peace. He had an apron and and a flat cap; he certainly wore the uniform of an artisanal wine maker.

The sun setting turned the sky into a spectrum of oranges.

I looked at my watch; I didn’t realise it was so late.

He walked towards me with a basket under one arm as he stretched out his other arm and looked up at the sky. ‘Lovely evening, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’ Evenings like those made it hard to believe it was only a few months into the year.

‘Can you move you bag over, please?’

‘Of course, sorry about that.’ I put my rucksack on the floor and he placed his basket of grapes on the table.

‘Are you wanting to buy a lot of wine?’

‘Just a bottle. I’m carrying it back down with me so I don’t want too much weight.’

‘You’re planning to walk back now?’

‘Yeah. Well, if I leave within the next hour, I’ll make it down before night, right? It took me all day to get here, but a lot of that was working out my route.’

‘It’ll take hours, even if you go the shortest way. There’s plenty of room in the house; you’re welcome to stay and leave in the morning.’

‘Thanks. I think I'll do just that. I’ll buy a couple of bottles before I go.’

‘I’ll give you a quick tour of the place, follow me.’

He picked up his basket and I picked up my rucksack. I stood; I threw it over one shoulder and walked with him into the house. He showed me the main room, the kitchen, his bedroom; he led me up the stairs and showed me the bathroom, and the room I’d stay in.

‘What’s through there?’ I nodded towards a door at the other end of the hallway.

‘That’s where I make wine.’

'There's a hint of grape scent in the air.’

‘We don’t need to go in, I have some fresh bottles in the kitchen.’

‘No worries. Well, I think I’ll get some sleep then.’

‘That’s okay, I’ll give you a shout about six tomorrow. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

He walked downstairs. I crawled into the bed with my clothes still on, I was cold.

I slept for some hours; I was awoken by the sound of an owl hooting right outside my window.

I laid awake in the darkness, contemplating taking a trip to the man’s wine factory. He didn’t say I couldn’t visit by myself.

I had no idea what time it was; I thought it was somewhere in the early hours. There hadn’t been a sound from inside the house for as long as I was awake. He must be asleep.

Slowly and softly, I crept along the corridor towards the door. I turned the handle; behind the door there was a short walkway before a staircase. A cord hung from the ceiling. I pulled it; it was a light, just as I'd hoped.

I wandered down the stairs. There were machines and devices all around me. The place was definitely a wine factory.

I looked to the left and saw passage to another room.

I walked through to it and there was a well. A sign above told me it was an area for waste disposal.

The silence was broken by the sound of footsteps; they were from upstairs, and on the way to me.

I rushed towards the entrance, ready to explain my presence.

In my head, I prepared a few lines about how I was curious. I didn’t think he could be mad at me for that.

As I was leaving, I noticed a huge tub of crimson liquid. It also had a sign above it. I read the sign; I froze, instantly aware that I should never have come here.

I could feel my heart punching my chest; I realised it wasn't grapes that made the wine distinct.