7: Neon Grapes

Coffee Details


Caldas, Colombia


​Microlot sourced from small producers and processed by Juan Felipe Aristizábal at his wet mill


Caturra, Colombia, Castillo


Natural with 48 hour fermentation


Milk chocolate, strawberry, citrus


Slow Mo was getting ready to spend the evening foraging for food. He typically did not need to travel very far, as almost all of the flora on the mountain was edible. Today, however, he had decided to grab some of his favorite fruit, Neon Grapes, from the fringe of the grassy valley on the side of the mountains opposite Weird City. They were both very sweet and incredibly sour at the same time and put off a fluorescent pink glow even after they were picked.

He would eat some of it himself, but he would bring the rest to Weird City. It was his weekly excuse to visit his new friends and neighbors. He hadn’t expected to like them, but once he had decided to give them a chance they actually started to grow on him. And they brewed a wonderful drink they called “caw-fee” that they shared with him anytime he came to town.

Stepping out from the cover of the mountain forest, Slow Mo scanned the valley for the glow of the ripe grapes. Low grass and sparse shrubs covered the rolling hill into the valley and midway down Neon Grapes grew in sprawling vines with their bright seafoam green foliage and bunches of glowing fruit.

Tonight was an especially good night, with most of the vines covered in perfectly ripe grapes, and Slow Mo had come prepared with two large baskets. He made quick work picking the grapes and managed to resist eating more than just a few along the way. Finishing up just as the final sun was setting, he used the glow from his baskets to find his way back up the hill and onto the mountain. It was a path he knew well and hardly even needed to see anymore to navigate, but this time, just as he was about to reenter the forest, he thought he heard something. Something like the soft *crunch* of a shoe on a rocky path.

He stopped and looked around, unable to see anything more than a few feet away. It was silent and Slow Mo listened carefully, beginning to wonder if he really had heard something, or if perhaps he had made the sound himself. Convinced that it was nothing, he continued on his path up the mountain and back to his cave, quickening his pace just a little.

And then something ran past him.

Slow Mo panicked and tripped over his own feet in the process. The baskets fell by his side as he stumbled forward and his forehead met with a low hanging tree branch that he would normally have ducked to avoid. He felt a couple of his ankles roll underneath him as the world went black.