Текст книги "Fable of Happiness Book One"

Автор книги: Pepper winters

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

CHAPTER FIVE

YOU MIGHT AS WELL admit it.

You’re lost as hell and need to give up the idea of climbing and head back.

My shoulders slumped as I stared once again at my compass. I hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after the strange noises in the night and had left at dawn, packing up my meager camp and continuing on in the hopes of stumbling upon the promised, untouched boulder.

I had visions of recording a fabulous video with the new sunshine striking just right, enjoying a nice lunch at the base, then having enough rations and daylight to hike back to my Jeep.

I was never usually this stubborn about finding a hunk of rock, but just like when I’d first parked and began this journey, something pulled me forward. Something made my steps quicker than usual and my familiar finesse at navigating trees and overgrown shrubbery messy and uncoordinated.

I made noise. I disrupted nature. Insects got out of my way, and birds squawked and swooped at my interruption. Mammals of all shapes and sizes disappeared into the shadows as if I’d trespassed upon their privacy.

Which I have, so fair enough.

This part of the national park was more than just untouched. It was feral. Every gnarly root and ancient branch looked untamed as if I’d fallen through a time portal and found the Middle Ages.

I doubted any tourists, campers, or rangers had been here in decades, if ever.

It was wild.

No paths, no pruning, no animals comfortable with human presence.

It didn’t want me here.

The entire park seemed to bristle with secrecy, unwilling to allow me to travel deeper. But that only made this failed expedition more intriguing. Knowing that I was one of the few who’d walked this earth made me burst at the seams with gratefulness and curiosity, but it also made me wary that if I didn’t play it safe, I could die and never be found.

My bones would become part of this ecosystem. My flesh become part of the forest.

I’d be swallowed whole and gone.

Unfortunately, even though I didn’t want to, I had to concede.

I’d been following the ridgeline of the valley I’d slept above for hours. I’d backtracked and shimmied down a small distance to see if I could see anything that looked like the photo in the Climbers Anon group. I’d spotted a couple of clusters, a few rock formations that could be useable as a backdrop for YouTube content, but it wasn’t the fabled Kentucky Khalessi.

But now it was past noon, and I always did endeavor not to be entirely stupid.

I was running low on water. I’d eaten the packet pasta and Fruit Roll-Ups for breakfast, and I’d worn far too many warm clothes with how hot the weather had turned out to be. Bugs buzzed around me, and the odd mosquito braved my clothing to bite my arms and legs.

I’d have to come back better prepared.

Looking one last time at the gorgeous view, I marveled at the way cliff sides seemed to crush close together before spreading out into a wider ravine. Trees on either side of the valley strained toward one another, their branches touching and entwining over centuries of growth.

I’d seen such phenomena before. A canopy of living branches formed in rainforests around the world. When I’d gone climbing in Vietnam, a few locations had been entirely closed in, the trees so dense and interlocked that sunlight speared in vain to the damp earth below. Another climb had led me to caves in Malaysia where an entire cathedral had formed from banyan trees, all linking together as if saying no to the sky.

It had been a while since I’d come across something so intricate, and I hadn’t been lucky enough to stumble upon something like this in the US. Typically, trees preferred their own towering individuality. Claiming their own space instead of binding into one massive air-carpet of leaves.

But not here.

Unfortunately, the braided canopy prevented me from seeing much below. I couldn’t search the valley floor. Couldn’t squint past the dense foliage to spy the boulder I was searching for. It would take a long climb down before I would be able to tell.

And even if it was down there, I doubted I’d have the energy to climb a boulder, video myself a few times in different angles, and then monkey my way back up this steep entrance.

Most of me wanted to do that very thing. To throw caution to the wind and see. But the small part of me that was still sane forbade it.

Go back to the Jeep.

Going home would be the wisest choice, but if you must try again, get more rations, rest, and return.

Fine.

Tucking my compass into my pocket, I unclipped my water bottle from my backpack strap and took a drink. I rationed myself, just in case it took longer than I feared to get back to the Jeep.

Forcing the lid back on after a few mouthfuls, I screwed it tight and went to clip it back onto the strap, only my fingers were slick with sweat.

The metal turned slippery.

It fell.

I tried to catch it.

The bright mosaic design on the bottle glittered in goodbye as it fell, fell, fell down the drop-off and tumbled over, bounced off, and clattered against the rocks before dropping out of sight into the valley below.

Damn!

Leave it. Don’t be any more stupid than you’ve already been, Gem.

My left foot backed up from the edge, but my right foot slid forward, tugging me into danger.

I’ll just have a quick peek.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I placed my backpack on the ground before edging carefully to the drop-off. Trees provided branches to hold onto, and I traversed my way down a few feet, searching for a lookout where the canopy of leaves wouldn’t obstruct my view.

Fresh sweat broke out over my brow as I descended farther, glancing back to see the distance I’d already traveled.

Okay, far enough.

Forcing myself to stick to a sensible plan, I clambered down one final decline before latching onto another branch and peering through the portal of leaves.

Scanning the valley below, I already knew finding my water bottle would be impossible. It’d been adopted by the forest, never to be drank from again. But honestly, hadn’t that just been an excuse to look closer? To calm my suspicious nature that if I turned back now, I’d be walking away from something unique and magical? The boulder could be right below me, and I didn’t want to leave until I was certain.

And besides, even if nothing was remotely climbable down there, the view was outstanding. The sun dappled on greenery of all shades. Emerald glossiness by the cliff sides, sage velvet from pretty flower-sprouting shrubs, and lime brightness from new growth bordering a meandering river cutting through the center of the valley.

Blue water glistened as if fed by a glacial runoff, bubbling over shallow areas before turning calm and glassy with depth. I followed the snaking beauty, watching it vanish into a cave formation ahead.

A cave!

Mammoth Cave National Park had been named for its limestone labyrinth of caves. The publicly accessible ones had been featured in every tour book and top recommendations of things to do in Kentucky. And thanks to the podcast I’d listened to on the way here, I knew over four hundred miles of cave passageways had been explored with the potential of another six hundred miles still to be found.

Had I found a cave that hadn’t been discovered yet?

Was this one of the disconnected caverns—a cave that wasn’t part of the known network and full of archaeological surprises?

The itch of adventure returned.

Screw finding the boulder.

If the cave had tunnels and chambers, that would make an insane YouTube video in its own right. Grasping the branch tighter, I twisted to look back the way I’d climbed.

I’d have to go back up to grab my backpack, and I should definitely return for more rations before I—

Wait, what’s that?

I froze, narrowing my eyes at the flash of sunlight on something below. Something that was so camouflaged it blended into the valley landscape.

Surely, that isn’t a—

I looked harder, tracing the hard-to-see outline of a roof and chimney. A house. No, not a house. A mansion.

A mansion covered in vines, leaves, and the undeniable trick of nature to blur its existence. Wildflowers grew out of the roof, breaking up the large expanse of camo-painted metal. Exposed rock and chiseled stone hinted at how the building was made while greenery did its best to consume it.

The gardens around it were just as wild, giant trees casting shade over long grass waving like water in the gentle breeze. Even looking directly at it, I struggled to comprehend it was manmade and not some wonderful natural enigma.

I’d never seen anything so covered in plants yet so obviously created by hands instead of soil. It was utterly foreign and creatively hidden.

Is it a ruin?

Some sort of fort from the Civil War?

A hideout for some bureaucrat?

I climbed without thinking.

I descended instead of ascended. I left my backpack and recording gear; I turned my back on sensible decisions. I focused only on reaching the valley floor.

I have to know.

It didn’t take long.

The methodicalness of climbing took over my mind and motor skills. Grab a branch, drop down, slide down an embankment, pause. Track left for a better path, then crisscross to the right before trusting my body and a tree growing at a steep angle to catch me as I jumped a small distance.

By the time I leaped the final way from the cliff to the valley floor, sweat trickled down my temples, and beneath my windbreaker, workout hoodie, and exercise t-shirt, my skin was wet.

The babble of the river made my mouth water to drink and swim, but the house was even larger from down here.

A two-story sprawling monster with arched windows, carved keystones, heavy wooden doors with iron hinges, and a footprint larger than any suburban home available today.

It looked abandoned. Sad almost.

I stepped forward, drawn to it.

What are you doing, Gem?

You’re trespassing.

I stopped and looked around, my ears twitching for any sign that someone lived here. That they might have a gun and shoot me for being on their property. But no sign of habitation existed. No footprints, no debris, no smells of cooking or fires, no laughter or TV.

The air shimmered around it as if trying to protect it, to turn it into a mirage and fool me into thinking there was nothing there at all.

I have to see.

Balling my hands, I strode out of the shadowy forest around the cliff’s edge and waded through the long swaying grasses. They rustled around my legs, leaving my black leggings covered in fine golden pollen.

My heart galloped as I reached a heavy wooden door. It hung open slightly as if someone, so many years ago, had left in a hurry and forgotten to lock up. I looked at the stone entryway, searching for signs of animals.

Had this huge building become a shelter for forest creatures? Did bears hibernate inside?

Sucking in a breath, I knocked.

I waited.

Nothing.

I sucked in another breath and pushed the door, expecting to find it stiff and creaky in its old age. Instead, it swung on silent hinges, sweeping over marble tiles and revealing an industrial-size kitchen.

I froze on the threshold.

Neat wooden cabinets, clean wooden countertops, and a skylight directly above the range. The random clumps of dirt and wildflowers growing above blocked the sun in places. Higher still, the crisscross of branches that had once looked like a carpet when I’d looked down from the cliff had now transformed into a ceiling, providing a patchwork view of the sky.

Pots hung from a rack over the sink. Knives waited to be used in a butcher block. Everything was clean and tidy.

Clean!

No dust, no animal debris, no sign of disrepair.

This looked lived in.

This looks recently lived in.

How did the place look so abandoned and miserable from the outside, yet inside it was obviously cared for and appreciated?

Goosebumps broke out as my eyes flew faster around the space. A large fridge clicked over, humming with age in the corner, hinting that not only was this place an existing home but it also had electricity in the middle of nowhere.

How?

What was this place?

Desperate to see more, my legs ached to creep deeper into the house.

Stop.

Propriety made me pause.

You can’t just go wandering into someone’s home.

What on earth are you thinking?

I should go back outside. I should leave. At the very least, I should wait until whoever lived here found me and offered an invite instead of me taking advantage.

Clearing my throat, I called, “Hello? Anyone there?”

I waited for a few ragged heartbeats.

Nothing.

“Hello? I don’t mean to intrude.”

Well then, stop trespassing.

Go outside.

I’d never been good at self-discipline.

I’ll just see if they’re in the next room.

Maybe whoever lived here was old and deaf. They might need help being so far from society and people.

“Hello? I mean no harm.”

Creeping forward, I left the kitchen and passed a narrow wooden staircase heading upstairs. A soft breeze whistled down, faintly musty but refreshing. The air was appreciated as the rest of the house felt stagnant and hot, soaking up the heat from the summer outside and trapping it within its stone belly.

A noise came from up ahead, wrenching my stare from the staircase, summoning me forward. “Anyone there?”

Moving faster, I followed the corridor until it spilled out into a cavernous foyer. Its door had been pushed aside, leaving the access open...but it wasn’t a typical door. Heavy and carved, it mimicked a bookcase—designed to hide the corridor, hinting that it led to staff quarters.

And this? This room that I’d just stepped into was most definitely not for staff. This was for royalty. This was for people with money and titles and fame.

“Oh, wow...” I breathed, drinking in its size and majesty.

If the outside looked like a crumpling, ivy-smothered relic, the inside was a palace. The greatest lie imaginable on the exterior, hiding the true wealth within.

Ceilings soared upward, a carved marble staircase with wide shallow steps led to a balcony that branched off onto a mezzanine, granting a viewing platform to the foyer below. A chandelier glimmered with a million crystals, sending delicate rainbows over my clothing. A fine layer of dust rested on each crystal, a cobweb dangling off the bottom.

But that was the only imperfection I could see.

Embossed with silvery swirls and golden flecks, the thick wallpaper covering the walls looked as if it had been inlaid with precious metals. Gray-veined marble tiles kept the air cool by my feet, and massive gilded artwork of the valley and its river brought the perfection of outside in.

Carved wooden side tables waited for vases or other knickknacks of the rich and famous, while a chaise lounge glowed bronze in the sun spilling from another skylight directly above.

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.

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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.

At least my mind was calmer than it had been this morning. Summer was my favorite time of the year. The season where food grew easy, the forest was alive with activity, and I could run without needing to bundle up in clothing.

Today, I just wore a pair of tight gray boxer briefs. I’d returned to the house after the birds spooked to dress. However, I wasn’t in the mood for clothing. I wasn’t in the mood to be human. Briefs had been the only item I selected, purely for support purposes. I wouldn’t even wear those if it didn’t hurt. I’d tried running naked a few times. I’d cupped myself and done my best to prevent gravity from tugging on my balls, but I’d had to concede when I started getting hard.

I fucking hated getting hard.

It filled me with self-disgust.

It made me ache for something I couldn’t have and hunger for things that were pure evil.

Touching myself to wash was one thing. Touching myself to rid that tangled heat in my blood was entirely another.

It was vile.

My teeth clenched together. I hadn’t meant to let my thoughts stray. They didn’t often go to forbidden territory, but today seemed to be intent on destroying me. First the sleepwalking and now the heavy ache inside me. If running wouldn’t stop such things, perhaps a swim would.

Veering off course, I ran away from the sweeping hillsides that led to the top of the valley and followed a narrow animal track to the river.

Bowling out from the trees, I didn’t stop.

The blue beckoned me.

The cleansing promise of the water summoned me faster.

I leaped off the edge and dived into the deep swimming hole that housed fish, eels, and the occasional crayfish that lived in the cave system.

I plummeted down, sinking to the bottom as fresh water consumed me. Wetness washed away my sweat, cooled the nasty aches in my belly, and reminded me, like all the times before, that it was okay to have needs. I was no different from the bears and squirrels who fucked in the forest. It was nature. It was natural.

Still doesn’t mean I’m interested.

My hands went to my hips and shoved off the boxer briefs. Ripping them down my legs, I bunched them up and swam nude. Swimming naked was pleasurable. Running naked was not.

At least with nothing cupping me, I could forget the tightness of cotton. I could calm down and allow the heat in my blood to vanish.

The temptation to let the boxers float away came strong, but I ignored it.

I’d done that one too many times, and the available options in the house had dwindled to just a few pairs. Once they wore out, I’d have nothing. Therefore, I’d keep this pair even though I preferred to wear nothing for as long as the season permitted.

I didn’t know how long I remained in the river, floating on the surface before ducking and gliding along the bottom. Hunger for food finally overshadowed my hunger for sex, and I climbed reluctantly from the watery embrace.

Droplets cascaded down my torso and legs as I strode back toward the ivy-shrouded house. My cock bounced against my thighs, once again turning hard despite my self-disgust.

I’d thought, as more time passed, that those urges would fade. In the beginning, I’d been blessedly free from wanting any form of sexual release. Unfortunately, it’d become rather insistent the past couple of years.

The cramping in my balls. The hardness between my legs. My body’s demands for pleasure always went unanswered, but it cost me. It made my temper spike and frustration bubble.

Stop it.

Ignore it, and it will pass.

Fisting the boxers, I focused on getting home. Once I’d eaten and done my daily chores, I could lose myself in a book. Perhaps, I’d find one I hadn’t already read. Or I could finally lower the chandelier in the entrance hall and clean the crystals. I hadn’t done that for years and had been putting it off for too long.

It was a bitch of a job, but it was the only part of the house that hinted at the filth existing within the walls, and it bothered me.

My mind continued to bounce from work to what I should cook. I’d have to start conserving crops soon. The endless task of freezing, drying, and preparing a larder for winter.

I’d gotten pretty good at prepping. Supposed it was thanks to the third winter when I’d finally exhausted the large amount of produce that’d been stored here and almost starved.

I hadn’t planned ahead.

I’d gone hungry.

For months, I survived on scrawny game and river water. By the time spring came and the snow left, I’d read every book in the library on cultivation and put the many packets of seeds in the storeroom to use.

If it’s this hot this summer, it means an equally cold winter is on its way.

Urgency made me walk faster, ticking off a mental checklist of things to do. The veggie patch needed weeding, the celery needed harvesting, and the cucumbers re-stringing. I also had the shit job of fertilizing, which included raiding the septic tank, scouring the woods for animal scat, and enduring the stench in the sun.

But at least those chores were outside.

I preferred those over the indoor ones.

When winter hit and boredom found me, I methodically cleaned Fables from top to bottom. Every inch of that monstrous mansion was buffed, waxed, and dusted, hoping that this year, I might achieve the impossible and clean away the dregs of disaster, despair, and desolation that existed within its walls.

My hands curled into fists.

Today really wasn’t my day.

Not only had I sleepwalked and suffered from lust that crippled my balls and thickened my cock but I’d also slipped into old habits.

This house wasn’t Fables anymore.

This house was mine.

And if I had my way, it would never remember why it had such a title or why I’d spent one spring chiseling out the engraved name from all the keystones above the wooden doors.

This place was nameless now.

Just like me.

Exhaling hard, I shoved my thoughts away. Thoughts were bad. Actions were good. I had a shit ton to do and didn’t need my mind delaying me any longer.

My legs worked on autopilot, taking me home. Birds sang in happy tunes, chipmunks argued in the undergrowth, and my valley gave no hint that the predator from this morning remained.

Good.

I didn’t fancy taking on another bear. My encounter with one that first autumn, when I still had so much to learn, had almost meant my death. I’d almost lost. Almost.

My fingers trailed over the scars he’d left behind on my torso. He’d wanted to claim the house as his own. I’d said no. We’d...argued. He’d left, and I hadn’t seen him since.

I often wondered if he was still alive or if the seasons had claimed him like they’d tried to claim me.

The shadow of the house welcomed me back as I stepped over the threshold into the kitchen. With a practiced toss, I threw the soaked boxers into the sink and kept striding toward the stairs that led to the dorm—

Wait.

I spun around.

The door.

It’s wide open!

I never leave it open.

Ever!

You didn’t latch it this morning.

You were too eager to bolt.

Maybe the wind blew it open?

I scowled outside at the calm trees and soft breeze.

It hadn’t been windy all day.

There was no way the heavy door would’ve opened on its own.

Intruder.

What kind of animal? What weapon would I need?

My eyes dropped to the floor, searching for tracks.

Claw marks.

Pad indents.

Slither hints.

I ducked to my haunches, running my fingers over the tile.

I stopped breathing.

I couldn’t move.

Not a paw print but the barely-there tread of a shoe.

Fuck.

Fuck!

I shot up and backed away so fast, I bumped into the kitchen island.

A shoe?

What the fuck was a shoe imprint doing on my tiles?

My heart rate exploded.

I couldn’t catch a proper breath.

Undiluted fear and the hottest, blackest rage snarled in my stomach.

Human.

There was a motherfucking person in my house.

My house.

Not theirs.

Mine.

I’d kill them.

I’ll rip them limb from limb.

Pushing away from the island, I bared my teeth at the dusty footprints and hunted.

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