Worn paths

 The walls of the house were cracked, debris always falling from the chipping stones. It was an old building; one that was tucked away deep in the woods. It gave off an unsettling feeling, but had an undertone of comfort. As if this house used to be one that was filled with warmth and happiness, but now it's old and decrepit. The sides were overgrown with moss and vines; flowers bloomed on their bushes that traveled up the columns and surrounded the place.

Although the house and the forest both gave a forbidding feeling, the forest made that feeling worse. It enhanced it and transformed it until it was forbidding in its own way. Tall oak trees loomed over the small house and long shadows stretched along its walls. The lanterns hanging from the branches were off. No one was there to light them anymore so eventually all the kerosene inside died out along with the flame. They hung still, no wind to blow them back and forth.

The stone path was also disheveled with stems growing through those broken lines to where the slabs were barely visible. It was almost sad, although they figured it was only respectful for those to come across it to leave it be. They wanted to clean it up and make it warm again, but it felt forbidden. Their shoes stood at the beginning of the path to the wooden door that hung open and almost off its hinges. It was a squeaky door that made noise no matter how little or how slow you moved it.

A soft sigh came from the lips of the person there. They stepped up to the door, eyes drifting over the crevices and the rusting iron of the hinges. Although it felt wrong, they knew they belonged there. It was an old house, sure, but it was their old house. One that they left to rot. Years of depression and guilt hiding in the walls, making them full and almost incapable of holding anymore memories.

Fire had destroyed those woods a long time ago. It killed what they loved the most. It destroyed them inside and even the house wasn't big enough to keep them happy. The memories weren't enough and just hurt more. They had to leave and had to forget about it all. They forced it to the back of their mind and walked away.

It was weird to be back. They felt regret and guilt for doing this to the poor house. They still walked in.

Dark stains covered the wooden planks of the floor. Spots that traveled from the kitchen to the bedroom door that was glued shut by the vines and roots that grew across it on either side. Flashbacks of blood dripping, screams shaking the walls, and an agony that filled every part of their soul came rushing back to their mind.

They walked over to the stove, the floorboards creaking under their soles. The metal was untouched for the most part, but that didn't stop the dust from collecting on its surface. An old flower pot was set up against its side, right below the window where the sun was trying its hardest to come in. It used to cast a nice, dusty, and spotty illusion when it came in in the morning. It would warm the cold wood and make walking barefoot bearable.

Purple flowers grew along a vine that had wrapped around the window's sill and the hook on the side of the top. A morning glory plant that lived this long. It was amazing to them.

The coils of the old gasoline cooker were rusted and stuck in their places. Dust was lodged in the bottom, making using the stove a dangerous feat. An old kettle sat on top of the coils, rust on the sides from where water boiled over and hadn't been cleaned up right away.

They sighed, looking around the rooms and at the destruction that they and the fire had created. It was part of the woods now, but that didn't mean that they couldn't tend to it, so they set to work on cleaning out all of the cobwebs from the corners and the dust off of surfaces. A soft breeze blew in from the open door as if it was saying "thank you" for the gentle cleaning. They no longer owned the property that the cottage sat on, so there was only so much they could do.

Peeking under the couch revealed a nest. Inside were four small bundles of four and four sets of large rabbit ears. At least someone was putting the house to good use.