Don't Ax Again

I’m a warm weather, sunning on the beach kind of girl. It took Vic a full month to convince me to go to that cabin for our honeymoon.

On our first morning there, we both woke early. It was cold and the fire had gone out in the fireplace.

“We need more wood,” Vic told me. “There’s an ax in the coat closet.”

“That sounds dangerous!” I rolled out of bed and followed him.

We located the ax on the floor of the coat closet. As I tried to lift it off the ground I quickly lost balance. I crashed through the interior wall of the coat closet.

“Whoa! You alright?” Vic asked.

My eyes adjusted to the darkness. “There’s another room back here! I see a wall full of bottles!”

Vic shouted, “I’m coming in!”

“Don’t!” I called back. “I don’t know how sturdy the floorboards are!”

“You’d better come out,” he said worriedly.

I stepped into the coat closet and smiled mischievously at Vic as I held up a bottle. We took it to the kitchen to wipe it off.

“What language is that?” I asked Vic, as we peered at the tag on the neck of the bottle.

“Beats me,” he said. “I don’t see a year on it, but it’s gotta be wine.”

I grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and opened the bottle.

Vic quickly spoke up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

As I poured, the liquid flowed from the bottle, thick and red.

Vic panicked and asked, “Is that… blood?”

“It is indeed,” said a voice from the darkness of the room beyond the coat closet.