Views From a Jungle

You proceed into a jungle you hesitate to consider “man made”. Perfect sunlight streams through a little more than half of the innumerable panes of glass. The other panes seem to face into various parts of the house with the building’s trademark impossibility.

A quiet gathering sways to unheard music in a roughly finished basement. A row of ornate chairs loom over a spacious hall. An elegant and studious woman strolls with melancholy through a tattered library. You almost lose yourself in the site of a fantastical bacchanal led by a grinning imp.

You stop. You refocus. The admonitions of the guard roll back through your mind, affirming your feet on the path and tightening your grip on the rake. Step by trepidatious step fear grows along with wonder. Your mind reels and contemplates how the sight of such a place would not drive a person…

“Mad! Mad! Heehehe…” the laughter trails to a rustling in the contortion of vines up the path.

“Ah cripes,” you mutter, much disheartened, “The gardener.”

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