Grandma's House

 Contest entry for "Under the floorboards" prompt, didn't win, had a good time. Edited
Check out "SCREAMS!!!"  for more stories.

Tabatha didn't know what about this old house she liked. But, she always felt safe here. Her Grandmother's funeral finally done. Alone for the first time in two days. Tabatha laid on the living room floor mourning the loss.

Grandma's house has always been a safe place. Grandma never made snide comments about purple or green hair. Each time Tabatha visited, Gran treated her the same. If she wore all black or a flowery sun dress. Well, maybe not exactly the same. Tabatha knew, other family didn't understand her quirkiness, but Grandma did. No one in the family thought it unusual for Grandma to leave her the house. A letter addressed to Tabatha contained one line. 'Love the house, the house will love you.'

Tabatha's chest heaved and cramped in rhythm with her sobs. On the living room floor, she felt warm and comfortable. The floor always had a bounce to it, Grandma said, "... it's because the house is ancient." Now, it echoed her sobs as she cried. The floor moved in time with each sob. She didn't know where the carpeting came from; it was luxurious. Unlike any carpet she had ever touched. She remembered as a little girl how much she loved to walk barefoot on the carpet. The soft padding and fine material felt good between her toes. Sometimes a twitch would tickle her bare feet. Often, she could make the twitch happen by squeezing her toes and balling them up in the soft threads. She would always giggle when it happened.

Without realizing it Tabatha had kicked off her shoes. Black stockings covered her feet, folding her toes in the carpet like she did as a child. Smiling, there it was, the same little trimmer from 20 years ago. Comfortable, exhausted from crying, Tabatha lost all sense of time as she drifted off to sleep. Her dreams, if she had any, were unremarkable. She slept on a cloud. Wrapped in the most comfortable blanket ever.

That was the first night Tabatha had slept in Grandma's house, correction, her house alone. Rested and recovered from her bout of grief, "life always moves forward." is what Gran would say.

After two years Tabatha had changed the old house to her's. Grandma and Grandpa had collected neat stuff. A hand carved 'Lord of the Rings' chess set was now polished and on display. She framed two cool looking album covers she found in an old chest. A band called 'Molly Hatchet'. The music wasn't bad, whoever the cover art made them worthy to display.

Whenever she was home, she could feel as much as hear a gentle hum. She never found the source. Yet, it didn't bother her. Most times the hum would help her sleep or help calm a hectic day. Tabatha loved this old house. She loved to walk barefoot and remember Grandma talking about the creatures that protect those they love. Walking through the door Tabatha felt loved. She attributed the feeling to her grandparent's influence on the old place. The house became home, more than a home, a welcoming old friend.

The sound of breaking glass woke Tabatha. Followed by the rapid handling of door locks and tumbling of furniture. Tabatha had to force herself to breathe and try to slow her heart. "Check the back room!" a loud whisper, strange and unfamiliar. Movement. Lights being turned on as a figure moved through the house. She quickly moved out of bed and closed the door. The door opened forcefully before she could block it.

The figure, wearing an orange jumpsuit, rushed in. He grabbed Tabatha with vise like hands. Pushed and partially carried her through the hall to the living room. There, Tabatha saw the chess pieces on the floor. The little Frodo's scattered like bodies on a battle field. The album covers hung off kilter. Other knickknack debris littering the space.

Tabatha curled her toes in the carpet. Hoping for grip to stop her forward motion. Tabatha realized she hasn't made a sound. The shock and suddenness of the attack left her feeling confused. No cry, no scream. A sound starting to form, building from a place deeper than she ever knew existed. Regaining focus, a defiant spark of courage getting warmer.

"Look what I found," said jumpsuit. Tabatha seen jumpsuit two just then. A larger man, 6 feet 6 and well over 200 pounds. "And she is ready too!", suit one continued. Tabatha realized she was naked. Sleeping naked seemed as natural as breathing, but at this moment she wished she had something on, anything. Suit one threw Tabatha to the floor. Staring at her bare breast, he unzipped the jumpsuit. He was oblivious to the rest of the room. Suit two making his way from the front door. The reddish glow reflected by broken glass unnoticed. Jumpsuit one pulled his arms and shoulders free. His member at full attention. Both men focused on the nude figure on the floor. Tears formed and threatened to roll down Tabatha's cheeks. "NO, NO, NO I will not cry," she chastised herself. Digging her fingers in to the carpet, steeling every muscle under her command. The sound surfaced, not a scream, a command, one word, drawn out, "NO!", primal, brave, determined.

The house shook. A heavy upward motion unbalanced both men. A low rumble akin to thunder after a lightning flash, or a growl from somewhere deep and foreboding. The rolling timpani getting louder. The floor boards opened just off center of the room. Closer to the front door equally spaced were two more smaller slits emitting wet glassy red light. Something grabbed suit two anchoring his foot in place. A pale pink tentacle tracking back to the opening in the floor. He watched as another tentacle whipped from the gap in the floorboards. Wrapping around suite one's penis snapping with a crack. The man's trance on Tabatha broke when the pinch removed his manhood. Holding a tubular piece of flesh the tentacle darted back through the gap. A second tentacle wrapped around the mans waist. The following crack left no doubt suit one's back broke. His body folded backwards, the unnatural silhouette lifted and vanished into the floor.

The dark stain appearing between suit two's legs told Tabatha more about his character than his 6 foot frame. Three more tentacles appeared from the gap. A tentacles held each limb in a suspended crucifix. The scream didn't last a second as the tentacles rolled suite two in a coil. His face turned a dark purple. The wind pressed from his chest in a steady unyielding hiss. His eyes turned a reddish black color. Tabatha heard a 'pop' 'pop' as blood squirted from ear drums succumbing to pressure. Again, the cracking of bone as the body folded and disappeared under the floorboards.

Tabatha laid in floor gathering her thoughts and trying to process what happened. The floor, warm, soft, the padding conforming to her naked body. The gentle quiver she had grown so accustom feeling on her feet, traveled her full length. The thunderous rumble had calmed to a purr. "That's it," she thought, "not a hum, a purr." Tabatha hugged the carpet, an instinctive reaction, making fist with both hands in the soft fur like covering.

She awoke on the floor where she had landed last night. A face shape with eye slits and a mouth was visible on the floor. Tabatha crawled to a spot on it's cheek. Curled into a fetal position she combed her fingers through the furry carpet.

"Thank you." she said. The floor's mouth moved forming a distinct smile. Its trailing edge nearly touching her folded knees. The low bass purr caused Tabatha's core to reverberate, comforting her, loving her, protecting her.