Moonlight and Merlot
The continuing saga of the lives, loves and heartbreaks of the residents of Dion Valley, CA.
As with all the best things in life, this is for adults only.
Zack’s father could have told all about the ritual in the woods if Zack had ever thought to ask. Blake could have filled his son in on what happened the last time the summoning of the God of Grapes was attempted in Dion Valley. Things that certainly never made it into the Dion Herald.
Blake, and by extension Zack, belonged to one of the founding families of Dion Valley and had owned and operated a successful vineyard since the very dawn of the settlement. Their ancestors were the ones who first invoked the god and had maintained the annual ritual for generations upon generations, until the modern world finally seeped into the consciousness of the founders’ progeny, robbing them of their belief, their faith, their magic. Reality replaced ritual, Excel charts and market trends and free shipping for wine club members replaced devotion to an invisible and increasingly improbable entity.
Only once in modern memory had the old ritual been preformed and it had not been with pure hearts and glad souls or any of that other pagan, white-witch foolish nonsense. It had been for the sake of profit. Pure profit. Because really, in these modern and rational times, what better, more powerful god was there than the almighty dollar?
They learned the answer to that question one dark night twenty-five years ago.
But Zack never thought to ask. Why would he? His father was a businessman who drank too much scotch, cheated on his wife and wanted to dictate every aspect of Zach’s life. His current ambition in life was to crush Phoebe’s father and take over his vineyards. The thought of Blake standing in the middle of the woods in his custom-tailored suit, chanting archaic gibberish was beyond ridiculous.
Ridiculous though it may be, it did indeed happen. And when the spirit was released from the circle, freed to wreak havoc on Dion Valley, Blake felt a brief stab of disquiet that he could not quite put a name to. It was all at once familiar and foreign and altogether unsettling. But the moment passed quickly and his mind was able to easily rationalize it away as some bad foie gras. His heart however, knew differently.
[Until next Tuesday…]