By writing this, I learned that sherry is made in Spain, not France.
A sherry cask sat in Andalusia for long enough to warp and twist so badly that some of the staves cracked. They mostly stayed in place, wedged between one another, and the rings, but some succumbed to the pressures of rain and sun. This barrel served as a perch for a barn cat until it died on the same day as its oloroso sherry maker owner. The neighboring farms whispered about the cat and the owner dying in the same moment as the cat sat in the maker’s lap on the cask. The same neighbors attended the estate sale to purchase anything gorgeous or useful with the steep discounts that come attached to death. They all snapped up the functioning wine and farm equipment immediately, and milled around telling stories about the sherry maker as well as his the cat. It was a notoriously tough feline covered in scars from prowling the neighboring farms at night, looking for fights. The stories quieted when a dark complected man with long black hair in greasy strings showed up late to the sale, and made several painfully patient laps around the house and the barn. The neighbors quietly observed the outsider as the sellers grew impatient.
¿Cuánto por la barrica con el pelo de gato? He asked with a heavy eastern accent.
The seller tried to offer him another cask that wasnt broken and covered in cat hair, but he persisted.
Tómalo, they told him.
The outsider picked the cask up against his belly. Long cat hair flew into his nose and stuck to the oil on his face as he walked down a hill through the field and onto a one lane road absent of signs. He tossed the cask up into the hayloft where he had been sleeping, then climbed the ladder. With more painful patience, he removed the staves without further damaging any of them. This revealed a cats skeleton within the cask. He pushed the skeleton aside and chose a few staves for his project. The stranger carefully sat those near the ladder, then dug around beneath the compressed hay that was his bed until he felt the smooth, hard bones he had brought with him from Moldova. He revealed most of a pelvis, and a femur from beneath his bed. Packed his materials onto his left arm and carefully descended the ladder.
The outsider placed the staves and bones on the waist high, worn, cut work table, and picked up a fine toothed saw. Cut the bone at such a slow pace that dust did not fly. Once he had a rectangle removed from the pelvis, he sat the bones aside and picked up a stave, removing the cat hair and placing it under the bone rectangle. The easterner formed a rectangle from each twisted stave and continued to collect the hair. Then took up sandpaper and rubbed it across each cut piece, switching to finer and finer grits, repeating the process until everything was smooth.. The wad of fluff and oil from his face and hair were used to polish the bone and finish the wood. This task took him well into the night. The stranger couldn’t see the sheen when he was finished, but he could feel it.
He felt around in the dark and removed tacks and a hammer from a drawer. But in the dark, he drew the hammer back too far and into his face. Blood dripped from his brow onto the wood. Once the tack was in, he polished the blood in with his hair.
The box was together. The bone was adhered to what would be the lid, but it had to be attached. After scouring the shop for over an hour, he lay on the dirt floor in defeat and stretched his arms beneath the shelf at the bottom of the work table. A small box was hidden below it. He felt the various soft metallic items inside but left them in their place. Removed the hinges, and fastened the lid. After polishing the bone with the dried blood in his hair, he placed what remained of the cat hair inside. He said something over the box in what sounded like south asian, but also eastern european. After carrying the cask turned casket into the loft so that he may sleep, he never woke. The farmer that he was working for would have the misfortune of finding the beautiful box born of hair, bone and blood.
Standby. I got a bordeaux murder magic mystery comin.
By writing this, I learned that sherry is made in Spain, not France.
A sherry cask sat in Andalusia for long enough to warp and twist so badly that some of the staves cracked. They mostly stayed in place, wedged between one another, and the rings, but some succumbed to the pressures of rain and sun. This barrel served as a perch for a barn cat until it died on the same day as its oloroso sherry maker owner. The neighboring farms whispered about the cat and the owner dying in the same moment as the cat sat in the maker’s lap on the cask. The same neighbors attended the estate sale to purchase anything gorgeous or useful with the steep discounts that come attached to death. They all snapped up the functioning wine and farm equipment immediately, and milled around telling stories about the sherry maker as well as his the cat. It was a notoriously tough feline covered in scars from prowling the neighboring farms at night, looking for fights. The stories quieted when a dark complected man with long black hair in greasy strings showed up late to the sale, and made several painfully patient laps around the house and the barn. The neighbors quietly observed the outsider as the sellers grew impatient.
¿Cuánto por la barrica con el pelo de gato? He asked with a heavy eastern accent.
The seller tried to offer him another cask that wasnt broken and covered in cat hair, but he persisted.
Tómalo, they told him.
The outsider picked the cask up against his belly. Long cat hair flew into his nose and stuck to the oil on his face as he walked down a hill through the field and onto a one lane road absent of signs. He tossed the cask up into the hayloft where he had been sleeping, then climbed the ladder. With more painful patience, he removed the staves without further damaging any of them. This revealed a cats skeleton within the cask. He pushed the skeleton aside and chose a few staves for his project. The stranger carefully sat those near the ladder, then dug around beneath the compressed hay that was his bed until he felt the smooth, hard bones he had brought with him from Moldova. He revealed most of a pelvis, and a femur from beneath his bed. Packed his materials onto his left arm and carefully descended the ladder.
The outsider placed the staves and bones on the waist high, worn, cut work table, and picked up a fine toothed saw. Cut the bone at such a slow pace that dust did not fly. Once he had a rectangle removed from the pelvis, he sat the bones aside and picked up a stave, removing the cat hair and placing it under the bone rectangle. The easterner formed a rectangle from each twisted stave and continued to collect the hair. Then took up sandpaper and rubbed it across each cut piece, switching to finer and finer grits, repeating the process until everything was smooth.. The wad of fluff and oil from his face and hair were used to polish the bone and finish the wood. This task took him well into the night. The stranger couldn’t see the sheen when he was finished, but he could feel it.
He felt around in the dark and removed tacks and a hammer from a drawer. But in the dark, he drew the hammer back too far and into his face. Blood dripped from his brow onto the wood. Once the tack was in, he polished the blood in with his hair.
The box was together. The bone was adhered to what would be the lid, but it had to be attached. After scouring the shop for over an hour, he lay on the dirt floor in defeat and stretched his arms beneath the shelf at the bottom of the work table. A small box was hidden below it. He felt the various soft metallic items inside but left them in their place. Removed the hinges, and fastened the lid. After polishing the bone with the dried blood in his hair, he placed what remained of the cat hair inside. He said something over the box in what sounded like south asian, but also eastern european. After carrying the cask turned casket into the loft so that he may sleep, he never woke. The farmer that he was working for would have the misfortune of finding the beautiful box born of hair, bone and blood.