Epicaricacy

Cacoethes

"We're here," declared Saria. "Plátno, drop us off at the garden."

            "Yes ma'am." He replied.

            We continued to drive through what appeared to be a meadow, riding along a well beaten path of dirt with oceans of green and yellow waves and black leafless trees towering above it. The sun cast the shadows of these wooden giants, and emphasizing the crystals that hung in the hovering mist. Mr. Plátno pulled before a foreboding glasshouse with white cloth sheets hanging in the air. It was foreboding in the sense of everything about this Victorian manor being made of glass, yet I couldn't see the shadows beyond the cloth. The flowers surrounding it were the prettiest I've ever seen. Amaranths coupled with lavender encircled the manor and made the glass glow. He dropped us off, tipped his imaginary hat, and left.

            "Please, come in." As she invites me, I can't help but shake this uneasy feeling. My hands felt like orbs were bumping against each other and my stomach felt the same. It was a trial to keep from shaking. The wind grabbed the door by its handle and graciously opened it for her.

            The floor was constructed of tiles with hand-carved portraits that created a lotus flower in the heart of it. There were the same scraps of cloth hanging from the ceiling that flowed in tandem with the ones out the windows. The room was a pure white. So pure that the sky above and the blossoming flowers surrounding us was impossible to be seen.

            "A glasshouse with no vegetation," I say. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a glasshouse?"

            "Not when it isn't a glasshouse."

            "What else could it be?" My brow rises in curiosity.

            "My bedroom," she takes a deep inhale through her nose. "This is my sanctuary."

            "Then, where do you eat?" I stammer. Her bedroom...I am standing where she sleeps, where she lives, where her conscious lays to rest. I am in a girl's bedroom once again.

            "We all eat at the cottage inside the center of the meadow; Plátno, Sirena, and I."

            "Where do they live?"

            "In that same cottage. Sirena says the absolute darkness helps them both sleep." She leans out of a window that overlooked a hill. "It brings me great peace to know they are happy there."

            "I never knew someone could cherish their servants like that."

            "Servants?" She storms away from the window. "They are not my servants. They are my friends. They choose to stay and tend to me and the meadow. They made this decision of their own accord." Oh, what a spitfire she is. It seemed as if she leapt out of the fires of Hell and into my presence.

"I'm sorry, it's just I've never seen friends act so selflessly."