Fable of Happiness (Fable 1)

I couldn’t help myself.

I drifted forward.

A library welcomed me, rich with the scent of paper and leather. Shelves soared upward, touching the two-story ceiling, and metal railings on narrow balconies gave access to the limited editions above. Cream leather wingbacks waited beside a cavernous fireplace, and rugs so thick and richly dyed they made me wince with guilt to step on.

The library guided me into a living room.

Another massive area with carved couches, loveseats, huge bay windows, gleaming coffee tables with chessboards just waiting for masters, and a world globe made out of polished shell holding crystal decanters of amber and clear liquor.

I couldn’t take it all in.

The splendor. The intricacy.

How could such a place look so ramshackle on the outside and be so sublime within? It looked almost deliberate. A ploy to make this place vanish. To only be accessed by those with a strict invitation.

And you don’t have an invitation.

“Oh, my God...” The living room opened up into a space I would happily live in for the rest of my life.

A conservatory with floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass roof, and a glass flooring.

A pond existed beneath the glass tiles. Green with algae and overgrown with lily pads, it would’ve looked incredible with fresh water and goldfish flittering beneath my feet. Potted ferns and stunted palm trees lined the glass walls, adding richness to the air, a denseness of oxygen, and another wave of muggy heat.

The conservatory existed as a link to another part of the house. A ten-chaired extravaganza sat in the dining room with plates still set out for a party. The napkins were held down by crystal bumblebees, and the vases along the center of the table held long-ago withered flowers. A wall of framed mirrors that had once bounced the dining table back, making it seem as if it went on for miles, was now shattered with shards still clinging in despair to the frames.

Whoever had smashed the mirrors had swept up and thrown out the rest of the damage, leaving the room perfectly groomed but with obvious sins and secrets.

Running my finger over a placemat made of woven leather and pearlescent ribbon, I searched for dust. For any sign that this place had sat empty for decades.

Spotless.

If this place was so well maintained, it must have a bevy of cleaners. Perhaps I’d arrived before guests had been delivered and the staff had headed out for supplies?

A grocery run?

Out in the middle of nowhere?

Where did they shop?

How did the building supplies needed to make such an opulent castle end up in the middle of a national park?

Spinning around, I frowned. “What is this place?”

No one answered me. A blackbird suddenly fluttered through a doorway, its wings whispering as it soared out the open window beyond. Was that what I heard before? Or was someone watching me tiptoe through their carefully preserved home?

“I don’t mean to intrude. If anyone’s there, I’d love to meet you.” I waited for a few seconds but only silence replied.

Leaving the dining room, I entered a game room complete with large chests with playing cards and casino chips resting on velvet flocked tops. The ceiling was painted black and lowered. Furs of dead beasts littered the floors and the back of couches. Ashtrays with fresh cigars waited to be lit. A wall of weaponry glinted with swords, ancient guns, and shields.

Confused and growing slightly unnerved at this palace wrapped in poverty, I braced myself and stepped back into the foyer. My eyes shot skyward, seeking out the bedrooms above.

Where was the owner?

Who lives here?

My hand latched onto the polished banister, my weight swaying forward.

Don’t you dare.

Leave, Gem.

Go home.

Imagine what Joshua would say if he knew what you’re doing.

“Hello? Is anyone up there? My name’s Gem, and I would really love to chat.”

Great, you’ve truly gone nuts.

No voice replied. No hint that I wasn’t alone and talking to myself.

The house was empty. However, there was another level to explore before I could be certain.

No. Don’t be stupid. Think before you—

Too late.

I put one foot on the staircase and climbed.

CHAPTER SIX

I’D RUN FOR MILES.

To the cave and back, through the western forest, and around the entire valley. Each time I tired and thought about resting, the unsettling sensation of sleepwalking and the unnerving prickle that something wasn’t quite right pushed me onward.

My lungs panted. My legs pumped. I pushed myself to the brink of exhaustion.

My bare feet were used to such abuse. My soles had long since turned to leather. Twigs didn’t hurt; pebbles didn’t matter. I flew over the ground and welcomed rivulets of sweat to run down my naked back.

Air rushed over my skin while the sunshine warmed and tanned. Being outside never failed to chase away my demons. It helped that I ran fast. I bolted. I wasn’t running for exercise but for sanity.