Someday Stables Novels & Stories

The scent of earth and pine rolled over me, and the tension in my chest loosened just a little. Maris walked with a lightness that made me think she’d been sneaking around her whole life. She didn’t glance back to check if I followed — she simply knew I would. The stables stood at the far end of the grounds, a long, timbered building with wide double doors thrown open. The air inside was warm, thick with hay and the musky scent of horses. Sunlight filtered through slats in the wood, cutting across the dust that drifted lazily in the air.

My breathing was heavy as my mind screamed for me to turn back, bolt away, or something. “Come on in. Welcome to our manor stable, where there are wild stories.” Said Carmelo with amusement, walking into the stable. It’s okay. We’re okay, Chiara. I gripped my pants and walked in, each step heavy like I carried a mountain. The dry and grassy smell of hay and straw reached me, and then the faint chemical smell of disinfectants. I took in the place, breathing out at how neat it was kept, exuding richness and care. My feet moved slowly as my eyes captured the climate-controlled stalls, each housing a different breed of horses. Caretakers were moving around, attending to their needs as though we

There wasn't any other available vehicle since Heron had taken the sports car; he must have been given a task by Senyor Saturnino. It turned out that the horse stable was quite far from the estate. We passed by fields of rice, which seemed vast. Lazarus mentioned that we could have walked the distance from the estate to the horse stable, but he didn't want to because of the heat and dust. When we arrived at the location of the horse stable, I was left speechless. There were at least two stables, each consisting of ten stalls. One stable was for male horses, or stallions. They would use the stallions for breeding.

“Dante Virelli. Heir to the Virelli syndicate. Dangerous. Uncivilized. Stay away.” Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. “Sounds familiar.” A few days later, Gabrielle wandered into the stables behind the townhouse. She needed air. She needed horses. She needed something real. She found a stable boy—barely fifteen—being shoved by two men in tailored coats. They accused him of theft, their voices low and cruel. Gabrielle stepped forward. “Leave him alone.” One of the men turned. “This doesn’t concern you.” “It does now.”