When they first moved in, they were like any ordinary family. Two kids, two parents and a recipe for happiness. But as the years droned on, and the kids grew up, and the dad lost his job, the ingredients on the recipe paled. Now my floor boards are creaky. Each time the door slams shut, my foundation shakes; my windows rattle. I feel old, run down, tired. Many years of weather have left my sides cracked. The rain pellets my shingles, finding the cracks, seeping through and slowly pooling in my musty attic. I’m old, run down, tired, and they just go about their days, ignoring my state of on-going depreciation. 

 
-----

“Are you ready?” Melissa screams up my staircase. Her voice echoes through my hallways, reverberating off my empty walls.

“No, it’s Monday!” Brynn screams back. She’s in her room, furiously throwing clothes against my walls, looking for her favorite pair of skin-tight, ripped-up jeans. She digs them out, struggling to fit them on.

Brynn rushes down the stairs, tripping over one of my steps, but quickly regaining balance. The stair chips, a small chunk of wood falling down. It’s small enough that it isn’t noticeable, but it still hurts. Melissa is standing at the bottom, her hand on her hip, car keys in one hand and coffee clutched tightly in the other.

“You’re gonna be late to school, honey.”

“Like I care, Mom.”

Brynn stomps out the door, her backpack lazily slung over one shoulder. Her bleached hair is caught in one of the straps and she stumbles her way to the car, carefully crafting a text to her friend. Melissa quickly follows, sealing the door closed.

---

In the kitchen, Kenneth is cleaning up from breakfast. Today he made the whole family buttermilk pancakes, filling the house with a sweet, sickly smell. It’s warm in the kitchen, and soft light is coming in from my streaky windows. Kenneth is still in his pajamas, which don’t consist of much. Just a pair of boxers and a grimy white t-shirt hang off of his chubby frame. He haphazardly stacks the dishes to dry on the counter and walks out. 

In the bathroom, Cody has been in the shower for what feels like an hour. Hot water is burning through my pipes, and its supply is starting to be exhausted, slowly cooling the burn. I feel the water leaking out of one of my pipes, deep within. It feels like a cut; it’s a deep gaping hole inside of me.
Kenneth finishes cleaning the kitchen, but my old wood floors are still stained with syrup and dirty dishes are still precariously piled in the sink.

“Cody, don’t use all the hot water!”

Too late, I think. My pipes are cooling down faster and faster. Cody slams off the shower, clumsily feeling around for a towel among the numerous hair products, make-up, and styling tools. He finds it and slips into a pair of sweats and an old high school football t-shirt. His hair is sopping wet as he swings open the bathroom door. He stumbles into the hallway, fumbling for a pair of shoes, and manages to make it out the front door.

“Thanks for breakfast, Dad,” Cody calls in the direction of the kitchen.

“Ummmhmmm,” Kenneth remarks absentmindedly, not loud enough for Cody to hear him.

---

Kenneth has moved to the den. A large TV has been anchored into one of my walls and a couch rests easily against the opposite wall. Papers, books, DVDs, DVD cases, maps, pens, markers and food litter the shag carpet.

He falls into the couch. A resounding thump emerges from within. He glances around for the remote, with no success in locating it. He stands up, slumped over, and finds it buried under a half-eaten bag of Cheetos.

He clicks the TV on. From now until 6pm tonight the TV will blare on. Sit-coms, rom-coms, dramas, mysteries, soap operas, and documentaries will fill the room. They erase the mess, creating new worlds to quietly fall into. They create worlds where I don’t exist.

Drool dribbles out of his mouth. It’s time for lunch. He shakes himself off, dragging his feet across my floor, through my hallway and pauses in front of one of my numerous cabinets. He peers in, snatching a box of cake powdered doughnuts. He scampers back to the couch and falls in. His grey eyes glaze over. The endless worlds continue to pour from the TV.

---

“Honey, I’m home,” Melissa calls through the front door. Kenneth fumbles up from the couch, switching off the TV. The worlds fade to black in the screen.

“How was your day?”

“It was okay. Are Brynn and Cody home yet?”

“Hmmmm, I haven’t heard them come in,” Kenneth eyes are far away as he remembers today’s worlds that he floated through.

“Alright, well, let’s go out to eat for dinner. I don’t feel like sticking around here; it’s just such a mess.”

“Sure, we can call the kids, and they can meet us at that new Mexican restaurant.”

“Perfect.”

Kenneth makes his way up the stairs, digging through his closet for acceptable clothing. He nonchalantly slips into a pair of washed out jeans. Downstairs, Kenneth grabs his coat from the rack. A weight is lifted off my walls. He flicks the lights off and the low drone of electricity fades.

Melissa and Kenneth clomp out the door and head to their car.

---

I’m left in silence. It’s an eerie silence that slowly crawls in and nests itself into my walls as their car rumbles into the distance.
I’m a complete wreck.  I feel mold growing in the bathroom, slowly taking over the sink with infestation. In the kitchen, the dirty dishes are still piled up, water dripping among them. In the den, a new doughnut box has been added to the wasteland of junk food wrappers which the shag carpet seems to disappear into. Ants crawl through the walls, hunting for the Cheetos and the nest of left over crumbs. I’m done, fed-up, tired, and old. I want to give up.

My family bursts back into their house. They move through, full with dinner and content after a long day. Quietly, they get ready for bed. Cool water runs through my pipes as they brush their teeth and wash their faces. Soft feet pad along my floor boards. Covers rustle and lights flip off. They tuck themselves in quickly and quietly.

The eerie silence nests itself into my walls again. Outside the moon glows bright against a backdrop of pinpricks of light. Slowly at first, a small, almost unnoticeable hisssssss begins in the basement. It gathers more momentum, growing louder, like air being forced out of a basketball. I feel my air being replaced with natural gas. It smells like rotten eggs, like the smells from the kitchen sink are taking over the whole house. Tonight, it leaks, filling me up. I feel lighter.

Deep in the den, the fireplace roars to life. It sparks, igniting the gas that settled behind the glass, but quickly explodes the surrounding area. The fire swoops through my rooms, taking each new one with more gumption and enthusiasm than before. I feel the heat against my walls, I feel alive. The fire is burning away the mess, the years of neglect. My walls are crumbling, my foundation is groaning, but I’m so alive. I’m breathing in the smoke and the flames as they take me down.

Three small, black figures, covered in soot, are fleeing from me. They stare back at me with terror. The flames are engulfing me. It’s coursing through me as if the flood gates have been released. It’s rushing like a wild river. I feel the power pour over me. I am its power.

They huddle together in the cold, standing in the middle of the street as if to say “what direction now?” Cody is sobbing into his mother’s shoulder and Kenneth wraps himself around Mellisa.

---

Months later, the ashes rest. They are undisturbed except for the occasional curious cat and the splattering of rain drops.