Fable of Happiness

Gemma

Just admit it.

You’re lost and it’s time to give up on the climb and head back.

My shoulders dropped as I looked at my compass again. I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep after the strange noises during the night. So, I left at dawn, packed up my small camp, and kept going, hoping to find the untouched boulder I was promised.

I had dreams of making a great video with the morning sun hitting just right, having a nice lunch at the base, and then having enough food and daylight to hike back to my Jeep.

I’m not usually this stubborn about finding a rock, but something was pulling me forward, just like when I first parked and started this journey. Something was making me walk faster than usual and my usual grace in navigating trees and overgrown bushes was gone.

I was making noise. I was disturbing nature. Bugs moved out of my way, and birds squawked and flew at my interruption. Animals of all sizes disappeared into the shadows as if I was invading their privacy.

Which I am, so fair enough.

This part of the national park was more than just untouched. It was wild. Every twisted root and old 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 used to humans.

It didn’t want me here.

The whole park seemed to be full of secrets, not wanting me to go deeper. But that only made this failed trip more interesting. Knowing that I was one of the few who’d walked this land made me feel grateful and curious, but it also made me careful. If I didn’t play it safe, I could die and never be found.

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

I’d be swallowed whole and gone.

Sadly, even though I didn’t want to, I had to give up.

I’d been following the ridge of the valley I’d slept above for hours. I’d gone back and climbed down a little to see if I could see anything that looked like the photo in the Climbers Anon group. I’d seen a few clusters, a few rock formations that could be used as a backdrop for YouTube content, but it wasn’t the famous Kentucky Khalessi.

But now it was past noon, and I always tried not to be completely stupid.

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

I’d have to come back better prepared.

Looking one last time at the beautiful view, I admired the way the cliffs seemed to crush close together before spreading out into a wider ravine. Trees on either side of the valley reached toward each other, their branches touching and intertwining over centuries of growth.

I’d seen this before. A canopy of living branches formed in rainforests around the world. When I’d gone climbing in Vietnam, a few places had been completely closed in, the trees so thick and interlocked that sunlight barely reached the damp earth below. Another climb had led me to caves in Malaysia where a whole cathedral had formed from banyan trees, all linking together as if saying no to the sky.

It had been a while since I’d seen something so intricate, and I hadn’t been lucky enough to find something like this in the US. Usually, trees preferred their own towering individuality. They claimed their own space instead of binding into one massive carpet of leaves.

But not here.

Sadly, the intertwined canopy stopped me from seeing much below. I couldn’t search the valley floor. I couldn’t look past the thick foliage to find the boulder I was looking for. It would take a long climb down before I could tell.

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

Most of me wanted to do just that. To throw caution to the wind and see. But the small part of me that was still sane said no.

Go back to the Jeep.

Going home would be the smartest choice, but if you must try again, get more food, rest, and come back.

Fine.

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

After a few sips, I put the lid back on, tightened it, and tried to clip it back onto the strap, but my fingers were sweaty.

The metal was slippery.

It fell.

I tried to catch it.

The bright mosaic design on the bottle sparkled as it fell, fell, fell down the drop-off and tumbled over, bounced off, and clattered against the rocks before disappearing into the valley below.

Damn!

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

I’ll just have a quick look.

Rolling my eyes at myself, I put my backpack on the ground and carefully moved to the drop-off. Trees provided branches to hold onto, and I made my way down a few feet, looking for a spot where the canopy of leaves wouldn’t block my view.

Fresh sweat broke out on my forehead as I went farther down, looking back to see how far I’d already gone.

Okay, far enough.

Forcing myself to stick to a sensible plan, I climbed down one last slope before grabbing another branch and looking through the leaves.

Looking at the valley below, I knew finding my water bottle would be impossible. It’d been taken by the forest, never to be used again. But honestly, wasn’t that just an excuse to look closer? To calm my suspicion that if I turned back now, I’d be leaving something unique and magical behind? The boulder could be right below me, and I didn’t want to leave until I was sure.

The view was breathtaking, even if there wasn’t a single thing to climb. The sun danced on the greenery, casting a beautiful array of shades. Glossy emerald by the cliff sides, velvety sage from the flower-filled shrubs, and bright lime from the new growth surrounding a winding river that cut through the valley.

The blue water sparkled, bubbling over shallow areas before turning calm and glassy with depth. I followed the river’s path, watching it disappear into a cave formation ahead.

A cave!

Mammoth Cave National Park was famous for its limestone labyrinth of caves. They were the highlight of every tour book and top recommendations of things to do in Kentucky. Thanks to a 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 undiscovered.

Had I stumbled upon an undiscovered cave?

Could this be one of the disconnected caverns—a cave not part of the known network, filled with archaeological surprises?

The thrill of adventure surged through me.

Forget the boulder.

If the cave had tunnels and chambers, that would make an incredible YouTube video. Holding the branch tighter, I turned to look back the way I’d climbed.

I’d need to go back up to grab my backpack, and I should definitely get more supplies before I—

Wait, what’s that?

I froze, squinting at the glint of sunlight on something below. Something so well camouflaged it blended into the valley landscape.

Could that be a—

I looked harder, tracing the barely visible outline of a roof and chimney. A house. No, not a house. A mansion.

A mansion covered in vines, leaves, and nature’s trickery to blur its existence. Wildflowers sprouted from the roof, breaking up the large expanse of camo-painted metal. Exposed rock and chiseled stone hinted at the building’s construction, while greenery attempted to consume it.

The surrounding gardens were just as wild, with giant trees casting shade over long grass swaying in the gentle breeze. Even looking directly at it, it was hard to believe it was manmade and not some natural wonder.

I’d never seen anything so covered in plants yet so obviously crafted by human hands. It was utterly foreign and creatively hidden.

Is it a ruin?

A Civil War fort?

A hideout for a government official?

Without thinking, I started climbing.

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

I have to know.

It didn’t take long.

The rhythm of climbing took over my mind and body. Grab a branch, drop down, slide down an embankment, pause. Veer left for a better path, then zigzag to the right before trusting my body and a steeply angled tree to catch me as I jumped a small distance.

By the time I jumped the final distance 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 damp.

The babble of the river made me thirsty, but the house was even larger from down here.

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

It looked abandoned. Almost sad.

I stepped forward, drawn to it.

What are you doing, Gem?

You’re trespassing.

I stopped and looked around, my ears straining for any sign that someone lived here. That they might have a gun and shoot me for being on their property. But there was no sign of life. 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.

Clenching my hands, I stepped 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 pounded as I reached a heavy wooden door. It hung open slightly as if someone, 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?

Taking a deep breath, I knocked.

I waited.

Nothing.

I took another deep breath and pushed the door, expecting it to be stiff and creaky with age. Instead, it swung open 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 place looked lived in.

This place looks recently lived in.

How could 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 darted around the space. A large fridge hummed in the corner, hinting that not only was this place a home, but it also had electricity in the middle of nowhere.

How?

What was this place?

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

Stop.

Decency made me pause.

You can’t just wander into someone’s home.

What 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 out, “Hello? Anyone there?”

I waited for a few heartbeats.

Nothing.

“Hello? I don’t mean to intrude.”

Then stop trespassing.

Go outside.

I’ve never been good at self-discipline.

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

Perhaps the person who lived here was elderly and hard of hearing. They might need assistance, being so isolated from the world.

“Hello? I come in peace.”

I cautiously moved forward, leaving the kitchen behind and passing a narrow wooden staircase leading upstairs. A gentle breeze blew down, carrying a faint musty scent but it was refreshing. I was grateful for the fresh air as the rest of the house felt stuffy and hot, absorbing the summer heat from outside and trapping it within its stone walls.

A sound echoed from up ahead, pulling my gaze away from the staircase, beckoning me forward. “Is anyone there?”

Quickening my pace, I followed the hallway until it opened up into a grand foyer. Its door had been left ajar, revealing an open entrance…but it wasn’t an ordinary door. It was heavy and intricately carved, resembling a bookcase—clearly designed to conceal the hallway, suggesting it led to the servants’ quarters.

And this? This room I’d just stepped into was certainly not meant for servants. This was a room for royalty. This was a room for people with wealth, titles, and fame.

“Oh, wow…” I murmured, taking in its grandeur and magnificence.

If the exterior looked like a crumbling, ivy-covered relic, the interior was a palace. The outside was the greatest deception, hiding the true opulence within.

The ceilings stretched high above, a beautifully carved marble staircase with wide, shallow steps led to a balcony that branched off onto a mezzanine, providing a viewing platform of the foyer below. A chandelier sparkled with countless crystals, casting delicate rainbows over my clothes. A thin layer of dust coated each crystal, a cobweb hanging from the bottom.

But that was the only flaw I could see.

Adorned with silver swirls and golden specks, the thick wallpaper covering the walls looked as if it had been embedded with precious metals. Gray-veined marble tiles kept the air cool near my feet, and large gilded artwork of the valley and its river brought the beauty of the outdoors inside.

Carved wooden side tables stood ready for vases or other trinkets of the rich and famous, while a chaise lounge shimmered bronze in the sunlight pouring in from another skylight directly above.

I couldn’t resist.

I moved forward.

A library greeted me, filled with the scent of paper and leather. Shelves reached up to the two-story ceiling, and metal railings on narrow balconies provided access to the rare editions above. Cream leather wingback chairs sat beside a massive fireplace, and rugs so thick and richly dyed they made me feel guilty to step on.

The library led me into a living room.

Another large area with carved couches, loveseats, huge bay windows, shining coffee tables with chessboards ready for players, 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 complexity.

How could such a place look so rundown on the outside and be so exquisite within? It seemed almost intentional. A scheme to make this place disappear. To only be found by those with a specific invitation.

And you don’t have an invitation.

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

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

A pond lay beneath the glass tiles. Green with algae and overgrown with lily pads, it would’ve looked incredible with fresh water and goldfish swimming beneath my feet. Potted ferns and dwarf palm trees lined the glass walls, enriching the air, adding a density of oxygen, and another wave of humid heat.

The conservatory served as a link to another part of the house. A grand dining room with a table set for ten, plates still laid out for a party. The napkins were held down by crystal bumblebees, and the vases along the center of the table held long-dead flowers. A wall of framed mirrors that once reflected the dining table, making it seem endless, was now shattered with shards still clinging desperately to the frames.

Whoever had broken the mirrors had cleaned up and disposed of the rest of the damage, leaving the room immaculate but with obvious transgressions 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 been abandoned for decades.

Spotless.

If this place was so well kept, it must have a team of cleaners. Maybe I’d arrived before the guests and the staff had gone out for supplies?

A grocery run?

In the middle of nowhere?

Where did they shop?

How did the building materials needed to construct such a lavish castle end up in the middle of a national park?

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

No one responded. A blackbird suddenly flew through a doorway, its wings rustling as it soared out the open window beyond. Was that what I heard earlier? Or was someone watching me tiptoe through their meticulously 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 answered.

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

Confused and growing slightly uneasy at this palace disguised in poverty, I steeled myself and stepped back into the foyer. My eyes darted upward, searching for the bedrooms above.

Where was the owner?

Who lives here?

My hand gripped the polished banister, my weight shifting 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 lost it.

No voice answered. No indication that I wasn’t alone and talking to myself.

The house was empty. But there was another level to explore before I could be sure.

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

Too late.

I placed one foot on the staircase and began to climb.