Man to Wine Bottle



Jackson looked around the dining room trying to figure out the best way to escape while he waited for his host to return. There were two main exits, one that headed to the kitchen and the other to the entry hall. Both were likely to lead outside but one had potential weapons while the other was closer to his car. Though he couldn’t do much at the moment while he was restrained to the chair.



While he continued to look around he heard the squeaking sounds of a service cart behind him and turned to see his captor. “Apologies about the delay, I used to have service staff but they have since left me,” the well dressed man excused himself with polite dignity. He picked up a silver tray and placed it in front of Jackson, lifting its lid to reveal a large medium done steak, with a side of roast vegetables. “I’ve selected a nice vegan bottle from 2003,” the host explained as he popped the cork and poured the wine into a glass. “It’s an unusual pairing but I must admit I have a wicked sense of humour.”



Jackson eyed off the steak knife waiting for the opportunity to use it but his host left his bonds on as he took the service cart to the other end of the twenty foot dining table and served his own meal and drink. Once he seated himself, Jackson’s arm restraints released, giving him mobility in his arms again, though he was only able to reach the glass and plate in front of him.



At the other end of the table, his host didn’t pay him any attention as he carefully ate his dinner and savoured the wine after each bite. Jackson didn’t even bother touching his and in a fit of protest he grabbed his own glass and threw it as far as he could across the table, shattering the glass and spilling its contents. This grabbed his host’s attention, who gently wiped his mouth with a napkin and got up out of his seat. He slowly walked over to the spill and looked at it with remorse before turning his attention to Jackson.



“What a waste…” he said, shaking his head. “I tried to be accommodating but you have rejected my hospitality.” He moved close enough to Jackson until he was almost in his face. Jackson tried to reach for the steak knife but his arm was frozen stiff. At first Jackson thought he had been restrained again but saw that wasn’t the case. He also wondered if he had been drugged but he hadn’t taken a bite out of his food.



His host regained his composure and walked away from Jackson and back to the cart. “I had the whole evening planned,” he said as he grabbed the half empty bottle of wine out of the iced bucket and poured the remaining content onto the floor. “We would’ve enjoyed a nice meal, had dessert, before retiring to the study for the evening.” He brought the bottle over to Jackson. “All the while we would’ve finished this bottle off. Instead you refuse to eat the meal I prepared or drink from this invaluable bottle of wine. I do hate when it goes to waste…”



Jackson watched as the glass bottle became malleable and its shape changed to that of an ornate frame, and the glass became wood, it then became larger as a canvas slowly formed between the frame and a painting of a woman with distinct tattoos and sad brown eyes appeared. She was naked but was laying down on a field of grass, with her legs hiding her crotch and her arms over her chest.



The woman looked familiar to Jackson, though he couldn’t say why. His host walked out of the room with it, leaving Jackson alone once more. As Jackson tried to place where he had seen the woman before he looked around the room again, though his neck felt stiff and he began to feel light headed. He then looked back down at his arm and managed a gurgled scream, as his skin had become smooth and translucent, allowing him to see the inside of it. He began to see blood pooling, hiding the muscles and bone. He felt his mouth fill up with liquid, but he couldn’t taste what it was, as it flowed down his throat into his stomach, filling it. His bladder felt like it was about to burst as he felt his lung fill up. Jackson’s eyes were still locked on his arm, as his whole body was too stiff to move. He watched as his blood began to go lighter but still kept it’s red colour and he could now see through it. Only now it was the only contents in his arm, which now looked more like a bottle of wine than…



Jackson would’ve screamed again if he could have as he recognised the girl in the painting, she was someone who went missing two years ago. He had also realized what had happened to her, as it was happening to him as well. His arms and legs had begun to shrink back into his body as he started to take a cylinder shape, his neck became long and narrow while his head squeezed into his neck as it turned into a cork. Jackson now sat in the chair unrestrained, the world much larger than him, his body felt fragile and filled with liquid while his head felt like it was ready to pop. While he no longer had his senses, he still had some awareness.



He knew he had been picked up, and taken in the direction of the kitchen before going down some stairs. He felt cold as he was placed into a rack, and sensed that he wasn’t the only one inside. There he would remain in his cool prison until his host had need of him. Though it could be years as his host was very selective of who he chose and when…