on odd occasions, a bottle of this strange vintage would appear on a village door step.
The recipient would know when to open it.
In some families they lasted generations, in some days.
The vintage always knew.
In an eldrich glade grew a tree that was grown from a meteorite.
The birds and wildlife of the forest gave this area a wide berth.
When the tree bore fruit,
(Every 7 years) the strange ones came down from the hills to reap the strange harvest.
From the fruit they made the wine of memory.