Beyond the Gates of Evermoore

“I can’t say any more,” he’d told her solemnly. “I’ve already said too much.”

Melody sighed, looking up at the house. Evermoore looked somehow different today, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. The best way to describe it, she thought to herself, was that the luster was gone. There were cracks in the paint now, small chips in the once smooth wooden columns. Surely they’d been there yesterday as well, only she just hadn’t noticed them.

You were too busy taking it all in, she told herself. Not to mention being chased…

Melody re-entered through the side patio, being sure to wipe her muddy feet clean in the wet grass. Though she’d gone to the carriage house looking for answers, somehow or another she’d returned with even more questions.

She was able to search most of the manor’s lower levels before Eric finally caught up with her.

The house itself was fantastic — every room was decked out with only the most beautiful of vintage decor. Considering that most of what she was looking at was over two centuries old, Melody spent a lot of time marveling at the quality and condition of it all.

Money… she thought to herself, a little jealously. It must be nice.

It was incredible to her that anyone could have this much wealth; enough excess cash to so painstakingly restore Evermoore to this precise of a condition. Room by room she was continually impressed, from lavish sitting rooms to parlors and private offices. Melody saw trinkets and baubles that would be priceless on today’s market: crystal figurines, intricately-woven tapestries, porcelain miniatures of various animals. Everything seemed chased with gold, or bedecked with jewels, or carved from some sort of precious stone.

None of it looked like an egg, though.

She cut through the ballroom again, a little sad that she never got to dance through it with her beautiful gown. By the morning light she could see scuff-marks that, she reasoned, were intentionally left on the floor for historic purposes. Long-forgotten steps from long-forgotten events, made by the ghosts of people long since in the ground.

“Boo!”

Eric’s voice startled her as she was about to spin in a circle, just to say she’d danced there too. Had he waited an extra five or ten seconds Melody would’ve felt pretty foolish.

“Oh hi,” she said, trying to sound casual but not doing a very good job of it.

“I missed you this morning.”

“Yeah, well I got an early start.”

“I can see that,” he smiled. “You must’ve stepped pretty lightly to avoid waking me up. I usually—”

He stopped, mid-sentence, and squinted down at her.

“What are you wearing?”

Melody held out the sides of her dress and forced a smile. “What, this old thing?”

Either Eric missed the joke or just didn’t care for it. His face was still drawn with confusion. “Where’d you get it?”

Her mouth opened and she almost told him. For some reason however, she didn’t.

“Found it in one of the drawers in my room,” Melody lied. “Much better than running around in that big sweaty gown.”

“Found it…” Eric repeated.

“Uh huh.”

“In your room…”

“Yes.”

Why are you lying to him?

Truthfully, she didn’t even know. But the lie had come quickly and easily, and so now she was stuck with it.

“What have you been doing all morning?” Eric asked.

It was almost an accusation. Almost, but not quite. Either way, she didn’t care for the question, or his tone.