Rotten Floorboards

Written By: Lilith Mae

It’s lonely out in the woods.

Rarely does anyone visit anymore. I’m more of a legend that people don’t search for, than that one place in the woods.

Sometimes, a group of teenagers will come by. Daring each other to touch my steps, or walk through my doors that I swing wide in greeting. They always run away, looking back like I might chase them.

I wish I were able to move like they think I can. Then maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely.

If it’s not teenagers, then it’s a few people with equipment. Searching and trying to communicate with ghosts that I wish were here.

A group of five teenagers, two girls and three boys, approach my doors. I swing them wide in greeting.

They shriek and giggle, shoving and jostling each other forward and through my doors.

My floors creek and ache at their slow crawl through my halls. The windows are all open, adding moonlight to their phone lights.

They flinch and squeak at each of my creeks, nudging and making fun of each other.

Each insisting the latter is more afraid than themself.

They find my flight of stairs, leading into a word that many haven’t seen.

This is when they leave, claiming my steps are not sturdy enough to even hold a cat.

I make no move and I make no noise. Maybe they will stay a moment longer.

One suggests leaving, pain laces through me at being alone again.

The quietest of them shoves the boy who made a suggestion. He clutches a cross necklace in his fist.

The quiet one asks if the religious one is scared of me. Calling me a dumb old house. The insult doesn’t hurt. I’ve been called worse

They spread out slightly, slinking up my steps. One at a time.

My steps groan and squeak in joy. I never expected them to even think of coming this far.

The quiet one stays at the back of the pack. He seems off, a little too quiet. Maybe it’s because he’s here. Who am I to judge, anyone who wishes to be here is welcome.

They continue on, stopping just a little into the hall after the stairs.

The religious one suggests leaving again. The fearful girl agrees, her voice shaking slightly as she says it’s boring here.

The quiet one stands taller than the rest, his eyes fluttering about the others. As if trying to make a decision.

There is something wrong with that one.

It’s like he’s anticipating something.

They debate quietly.

I grow restless.That one seems to grow restless too.

My shutters flap. They need to leave. Something is going to happen.

That one cannot be trusted. He is no longer welcome.

My food groans as they look around.

I slam my shutters shut.

The curious girl watches with interest.

The fearful girl jumps back and away. Right into That One. My floorboards groan.

Curious girl shrieks as That One pulls out a knife. It cuts the fearful girl.

Her life drains from her almost immediately.

She didn’t even know it was happening.

The religious boy collapses and retches onto my floorboards. The curious girl stands, hands clasped over her mouth in terror. The joking boy runs. Not away like he should.

He runs at That One.

My floorboards creak and crack. My shutters slam shut. My walls rumble.

He stumbles to a stop. Tripping back to the other two.

This is not what I was meant for. I was meant for the curious. The brave. The explorers. I was not made for the killers.

That One is unfazed by my rage.

He smiles.

He sees my rage at his act as enjoyment. As encouragement.

That One will not be leaving.

He shifts his grip on the still bloody blade.

My floorboards splinter and break between the good and the bad. Setting a line that he will not be able to break, so long as I am living.

I quake until he is on his knees, the fearful cries and pleas from my guests making me calm.

My shutters and doors all open and close, urging them up. Urging them to move. To flee while they still have their lives.

That one is back on his feet, smiling with eyes as wide as the moon above. The one that ran at him is back on his feet as well.

My floorboards splinter and bend in on themselves. I hope wood and nails don’t scrape them as they tumble and slide back towards the stairs.

That One is determined to finish what he has started. He tumbles with intent after my guests.

The jostling has finally broken through the haze they were in. The religious boy is finally trying to get to his feet.

That One isn’t happy. He thought I would have liked what he was planning. That I was going to encourage him like a child trying to walk.He’s mad now, his strides long and determined. The joking boy grabs the still frozen girl, shoving her in front of him. She starts stumbling down the stairs, gripping my rails like a life line.

He stumbles as I rumble again. I try to keep the rumbling under his feet. But it makes the girl on the stairs fall, her feet going out from under her. The only thing keeping her from falling down the stairs is her grip on my rail.

The joking fighting boy places himself between That One and the other two. The religious boy finally started his descent down the stairs.

My floors and roof begin to crumble. Shaking my boards and walls has signed my demise.

I am moldy and rusty.

I can protect them. But I cannot protect myself.

The girl reaches the bottom of the stairs, followed by the religious boy.

My walls groan. I give out on the support beams at the back of me. My roof tumbles in, but doesn’t catch That One.

The religious boy shouts at the girl to run faster. The joking fighter finally reaches the bottom, shoving the religious boy forwards as he trips. The stairs above him are starting to give in.

That One almost falls on top of him. Leaping from the stair he was on to escape the hole they’re crumbling into.

That One swings his knife for the fighter. He barely gets up in time, his leg getting cut instead of something worse.

My walls groan in protest. I can’t keep them up for much longer. They are just barely under my control now.

They still have to get through the dining room, living room, and two hallways before they will finally be free. I have to ensure their safety until then.

The fighter doesn’t realize he’s been hurt. He doesn’t limp, doesn’t trip, he just keeps running.

I groan in protest as That One charges for them again.

I tremble and quake uncontrollably.

The girl starts sprinting blindly throughout me, the boys following her, unaware of the way out.

Doors slam shut to startle them which way to go. I fling others wide open with too much force. They tumble off the hinges, unable to be closed behind them. Unable to keep That One away.

I fill with more rage than before. The religious boy trips, falling to my floors hard. The girl barely glances back at him, a sob tears through her. But her steps don’t falter. She is filled with fear.

That is not what makes me angry.

No, That One chuckles at the scene, his legs seeming to move faster.I crumble more.

The fighter stumbles as he grabs the religious boy's arm, forcing him up and to keep running.

They slow as they stumble together, both trying to help the other. The fighter shoves him forward.

The hallway they’re in is a death trap for them, That One is too fast for them to run single file down it. Especially when the girl is already starting to get tired, slowing down.

I tear down a wall, making a direct route to the living room.

They stumble to a stop, covering their heads from dust and flying debris.

That One stops for only a moment. The others wearily look at the missing wall and ceiling, thinking more is going to fall.

The religious one glances back. He scurries away, hitting and grabbing the others in his haste for safety.

That One lunges as they cautiously maneuver through the hole.

He gets on top of the religious one. The boy fights, flipping onto his back as That One shifts his knife in his grip. It raises high, my walls and floor groan at the thought of any more blood being spilt.

The fighter kicks, sending the knife flying. That One turns his attention, snarling like a rabid beast. Yelping like one too when he’s kicked in the side. Falling off of the boy and tumbling away.

My groaning calms as the fighter pulls the religious up to his feet. They dash for the girl, she’s escaping down the path I forgot to open for them.

That One is on his feet quickly too, sprinting after them.

I’m mostly beams and flooring now. The amount of roofing and walls I have up is a feat itself right now.

I completely give up my hold on what's not necessary for their survival. I will never stand again.

I don’t care.

The memories I have will not be tainted by the memories that others plan on making.

They are almost out. They are so close.

They can tell. Their panting is more labored, and yet they seem to get a new boost of energy.

That One knows it too. His feet punch into me harder than before.

They turn the finally corner, watching as my front doors fling wide open for them.

The moonlight brushes their skin as they leave. Leaping down my steps three at a time.

The moment the fighter’s foot leaves, I slam my doors. They brush against his shirt, almost catching him.

A loud bang, followed by a cascade of crashing happens from inside me.

The first sound is from That One knocking himself unconscious against my doors. The rest is me giving into gravity.I allow myself to become nothing but rubble. To become nothing.

Neither of us will exist anymore.

The five become three. He is buried in me. It angers me to be touching him.

The memory of why five is now three draws my remaining consciousness to the forgotten girl. She’s on the first floor now.

I break my walls towards each other, making them fall against each other. Becoming a tipi above her.

My bones sigh. My rotten and rusted muscles settle.

I can rest peacefully now. Knowing I actually helped them in some way.

I wish I could have helped all of them.

Lilith Mae is neurodivergent and chronically ill. She is always seen with a notebook in hand, ready to write short stories and poems as she thinks of them. Even if that means pausing a show or conversation to write something down. She is usually found writing or crocheting with her dog curled up beside her.