Under The Linoleum Floor

It’s raining outside. I've always found it peaceful when it rains. When I was really little, Mama told me that when it rains it means the angels are crying. I don't understand how something so beautiful can be born from sadness. Mama use to tell me lots of things, but she doesn't anymore. She use to smile and laugh too.

When Papa went away for the war, Mama cried. He wiped away her tears and told her not to cry. He promised that he would write to us, and that he would send gifts for Sam and me. He was just a baby when papa left.

I didn't tell anyone that the night before Papa left I saw him crying too. He hugged our old dog Suzanne and whispered into her ear. I hope he didn't see me. He always hated it when people saw him cry. Real men don't cry, is what he'd always say.

After Papa left, Mama stayed strong. She began working for the farm next door, often leaving before the sun rose, and returning long after the sun had set. Sam cried a lot when she was gone. I stopped going to school to look after him. Sometimes I missed school. I never thought I'd miss it, but I did.

In the early days, Jenny and Nathan would stop by and give me schoolbooks, and tell me stories of what I was missing. Mama thought I could keep up and study at home, but that didn't last long. Soon people in town began to talk about my Mama, claiming that she was "loose" woman with bad morals. Jenny and Nathan stopped visiting after that.

In the winter, Mama sold our horse to the neighbours down the road. By Christmastime, Papa had still not written to us. Mama tried her best to make Christmas happy for us. She was smiling but I could tell that she was not happy. She gave me a dress that she had bought secondhand. It was a beautiful blue dress with white lace. She apologized for the fact that it was not new. It looked pretty new to me, so I didn't mind. Sam got a new rocking horse, with a blue ribbon around its neck.

We were sitting by the hearth when there was a loud knock at the door. I leapt up thinking for a moment that this might just be a Christmas miracle, like those that I had often heard of from storybooks. Mama grew pale in the face and rushed to the door. Suzanne growled and raised her hackles. I smoothed her raised fur and tried to soothe her.

"Holly, take your brother and go," Mama urged.

I could hear fear in her voice. "But Mama—" I cried out.

"Just go!" she snapped.

Suzanne rushed towards the door, snapping at the man. I scooped up Sam in my arms and ran out the backdoor. I ran into the snow, stumbling as the snow reached my knees. My head spun as I ran. The cold snow cut into my bare feet like icy daggers. Sam shivered and clung tighter to my wool sweater. I took it off and swaddled him in it. Goosebumps instantly rose on my bare arms.

Mama screamed from the house and Suzanne began to bark frantically. A loud boom cut through the noise. I felt as if my heart were about to burst out of my chest with how fast it was pounding. The backdoor of the house swung open and the man stared at us from the doorway.

I must have shut my eyes and fallen asleep at some point, because when I opened them Sam and I were back inside. We were in the cellar, beside Mama. Her eyes were shut and her dress was torn and stained with red.

"Mama!" I cried out as I shook her shoulder.

"Mm..." she groaned as I rolled her over. Bright red blood pooled out from under her.

"You’re bleeding!" I cried out.

She sat up as if nothing were wrong. "It's alright."

She smiled weakly and lifted up my arm, which was covered in blood. "Don't be afraid Holly." She soothed.

"Who was that man?" I asked.

Mama frowned. "He was Jenny's father."

"But why did he do this?" I asked.

Mama didn't answer my question. Instead, she scooped Sam up in her arms and began to softly rock him. He was still asleep, with a peaceful expression on his little pale face. Mama began to softly hum and rock him in her arms. Tears slowly ran down her face as her voice began to crack. The humming turned into choked out sobs.

"My baby!" she croaked out. She smoothed his hair, wiping it away from his forehead.

We sat in silence until slivers of sunshine began to peak through cracks in the floorboards. Sam's face had grown several shades paler. Mama swaddled him in an old blanket, patterned with cheery pink elephants and purple horses. The blanket was one that had been mine when I was Sam's age.

I knew that he had gone to the angels before Mama did. I think a part of her didn't want to believe that he was gone. He was here for such a short time, just three years. It was hard to imagine what it would be like to no longer be an older sister.

The ground was too frozen to bury Sam. I hoped that Papa would be home by the time the ground had thawed so that he could be by Mama's side and comfort her. I asked her if we were going to cremate Sam, but she couldn't answer me. She began sobbing when I brought it up. I know now that I shouldn't bring up Sam around her.

I didn't tell Mama that I don't know why we got into the cellar. With Sam gone, I don't want her to be worried that I might be sick. The other night I noticed a large gash on my stomach when I was getting ready for a bath. It didn't hurt when I touched it, but my skin felt strangely cold.

The winter seemed to pass by fast with Sam and Papa gone. Mama stopped going to work for the neighbours. Suzanne had ran off at some point after Jenny's father left the house. I know this because her body was nowhere on the farm, and she was a big dog.

Maybe time passing by faster is a part of growing up. I'm sure I grew up a lot the night Sam died. Most kids don't experience that sort of thing. By the time spring had returned, Papa still had not written to us. By this point, I was sure that he had died too. Mama said I had to stay positive, but it was hard to stay positive. I felt as if my imagination was always running away with itself.

In the summer, a family came to look at our house. Mama said that we could still live here, but that we would be sharing it with the other family. It was too expensive for us to live here alone, and Mama couldn't bare leaving Sam. She still hoped that one day Papa might return with a perfectly logical explanation as to why he had not written in over a year.

She told me to stay out of the way while the family looked. I felt that it was strange, that the family didn't want to speak to us. They had two kids that were around my age. I was excited and hoped that we would become friends. It would be fun to have friends living with me. I'd be able to feel like a kid again. I also think the company would be good for Mama too. Hopefully these adults would be nice to her. I could already imagine all of us living together like one big family. Maybe I could end up being a sister to the other kids.

The new family ended up moving in. They threw out most of our stuff. I wanted to stop them, but Mama told me not to. She said that we should let them do what they want, as they were kind enough to let us stay here. I didn't understand how Mama could still have hope. If I were her, I would have given up on Papa long ago and I'd have taken us somewhere else. Home isn't home without any of your belongings.

We ended up moving into the attic. It was small, but we made it work. One day, I was perched on a chair by the window when the smell of freshly baked cookies wafted upstairs. Mama was out feeding the chickens, so I snuck down the stairs of the attic. She had always told me not to interact with the family that we lived with, but the cookies smelled so good and I couldn't remember the last time that I had eaten. Just one couldn't hurt. I snuck over to the counter and grabbed one of the still warm cookies from the tray.

A loud scream startled me, causing me to drop my cookie.

"Geoff! Look!" the young girl pointed at me.

Geoff walked into the kitchen and turned to his sister.

"Jules, there's nothing there," he scoffed.

"You didn't need to scream," I told Jules.

She acted as if I had said nothing at all. How rude. I walked over to her and stuck my hand out. I had always been told to introduce myself to people, so maybe that was why she was being rude to me. I had been rude first.

"Hi, I'm Holly." I grinned at her hopefully.

Jules ignored me and walked over to the cookie tray, shoving one in her mouth, and three into her pocket for later.

"BOO!" Geoff leapt up from behind Jules, causing her to shriek and drop half of her cookie. "This place is haunted you know" He whispered to her.

I was sad that Jules and Geoff were ignoring me. If they had listened to me, I could tell them that this place is not haunted. I wanted to be their friend and they wanted to pretend that I did not exist.

I never told Mama about what happened in the kitchen. I didn't want her to be mad at me and I didn't want to make her sad. The other night I had asked her if I could go to school again and she just shook her head and cried.

I didn't leave the attic during the day for a while after that. Mama didn't either. The two of us sat up there, spending our days reading books and playing cards. We had a ladder that we would stick out the window to go outside with. I was beginning to wonder if the family really knew that we were here.

After a while, it got very boring so I decided to sneak out the attic door again. This time, everything looked different in the house. I walked past Geoff and did a double take. Stubble was now covering his chin. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the family room. A girl with blonde ringlets sat across from him. She was wearing a short pink dress that ended at her mid thigh. She giggled and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. They didn't notice me so I kept walking. I made my way into the kitchen, and found the entrance to the cellar now covered in linoleum.

A faint tapping sound came from beneath the floor. I felt a shiver run down my spine as Goosebumps rose on my arms. The tapping grew louder, and louder. The taps grew into loud pounding thuds. It sounded as if someone were inside, and they desperately wanted out.

I thought of Sam, and how Mama had never buried him. Could it be that he had somehow never died, and was clawing to get out? No. That wasn't possible. I could see his little blue lips and pale face in my mind as if it were yesterday. I had tried to hard to keep him warm and I had failed. I sank down to the ground and began to cry.

"What’s that noise?" the girl in the other room asked.

"It’s probably the wind, baby," Geoff spoke softly. "Or... it could be the ghost. They say three people were murdered here a hundred years ago; their bodies were dumped in the cellar. Some say that on the date of their death you can hear them clawing to get out."

"Oh, stop it!" the girl cried out.

I stood up. I wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that no one was murdered here, but now I wasn't so sure. I stormed into the room and stood angrily in the doorway.

"STOP IT," I snapped.

Geoff leaned towards the girl and kissed her. She ran her hands through his hair as he leaned against her. The two tumbled to the floor, knocking over a liquor bottle. The girl giggled and pulled him closer to her, wrapping her arms around him.

"CAN YOU EVEN HEAR ME?" I shouted.

I could feel anger bubbling up inside me, unlike anything I had ever felt before. The couple continued to ignore me. I angrily picked up the bottle and threw it against the wall. The bottle shattered, glass flying everywhere.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Geoff screamed and leapt up.

He pulled the girl to her feet and the two looked around the room with frantic eyes. The room began to spin and I felt myself collapse. Memories began to rush back into my mind.

I remember standing outside with Sam in my arms. The snow turned my skin red and raw and then numb from the cold. Sam cried in my arms as I tried to soothe him and begged him to be quiet. We hid in the old barn. I remembered the way the hay stuck to my wet skin as we burrowed into a pile of old hay. I wasn't sure if I believed in god, but I prayed to him a lot that night.

The door flung open and the man stepped into the barn. The top of his shirt was unbuttoned, and blood was splattered against his chest. He held a shotgun in his arms. He had a smile on his face as he slicked his hair back with one of his hands. Sam sniffled and sneezed. The man strode towards us and shoved the still hot barrel into the hay, brushing a clump of it aside. He shoved the barrel into Sam's stomach.

"No!" I cried out. "Kill me, not him." I cried.

The man's smile grew bigger. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I want to have some fun with you before I kill you."

I spat at him in disgust. I had always been told to respect my elders, but this was not a situation where respect could be given. The man grabbed me by my hair and threw me down to the ground, away from Sam.

"You best not do that again, or things will be worse for you," he snarled.

He shoved the barrel of the gun into the neck of my nightgown, popping the first two buttons loose.

Suzanne rushed towards the man, snarling as she sunk her teeth into his arm. The gun went off, grazing the side of my cheek. I snatched Sam up into my arms and began a mad dash away from the barn. Darkness began to cloud my vision as I ran.

A loud bang filled the night air as I felt myself collapse to the ground. I cried out in pain as I clutched my stomach. Blood pooled out, staining my nightgown. Suzanne yelped and I could hear the man cursing to himself.

He walked towards us as I tried to crawl away. He scooped us up in his arms, like one would cradle a baby. I wanted to kick him, or bite him - but I could feel weakness over taking my body. He opened the cellar door and tossed us in like rag-dolls. Mama was lying very still on the ground, her face all pale. I poked her cheek I was afraid of how cold it felt. I could feel my body growing heavy and weak. Sam had stopped sniffling. I snuggled up to Mama with Sam held tightly in my arms. I was beginning to feel dizzy and sleepy.

When I opened my eyes again, Geoff and the girl were gone. The sun was beginning to rise outside. I must have been sitting in the kitchen for several hours, but it sure didn't feel like it. I returned to the attic, making as little noise as possible. Mama was up waiting for me.

"Mama, why didn't you tell me that we died?" I asked.