The rain had been drumming on the roof all afternoon, restless and uneven, making the house feel too big, too empty.

Eri sprawled on the living room rug, arms and legs flung wide like a starfish, staring up at the ceiling as if it might start performing tricks. It never did. She huffed a loud sigh, then rolled onto her stomach, chin in her hands.

No TV. No internet. Even the radio had fizzled out with static that morning. The house had shrunk into silence, a silence so thick it seemed alive, pulsing between the raindrops.

Her boredom was dangerous. Whenever Eri was left alone too long, her thoughts grew restless. She traced the raindrops on the windowpane with her eyes and imagined them racing, armies of silver streams charging downward. She whispered commentary under her breath, making up stories for each one. “That one is winning. No, wait, ambushed halfway. Brutal.”

She snickered at her own nonsense, then groaned into the rug. “I am going to melt into nothing if I stay here.”

This house was not really hers. It belonged to her grandparents, who were off on what they called an elderly vacation. In this old town that was apparently a real thing, since nearly every senior had packed onto a bus and vanished for the week. She pictured them clutching sunhats and bottled water like a herd of carefree teenagers. The thought made her laugh. Then the laugh fizzled, leaving her in silence again.

She was supposed to be resting her head after too much studying, or so her parents had said. In truth, they were too busy with work to notice how much time she spent alone. Her siblings were not much different, always caught up in their own plans. Her grandparents had been the only ones who doted on her, calling her Eri with such warmth that the name felt like a soft blanket. And just when she arrived for her so-called holiday, they had gone on their own trip.

So here she was. A teenager with no TV, no internet, no siblings, no parents, and not even grandparents to keep her company. Just a sleepy town, an empty house, and rain that refused to stop.

She sat up suddenly, restless energy crackling in her limbs. Her gaze drifted to the hallway at the far end of the house. A hallway with doors she rarely touched.

On a whim, or maybe because the silence was daring her, she padded barefoot across the floor and pushed open one of those doors. The hinges groaned in protest, dust curled into the air. The scent of wood and something faintly sweet seeped out, a forgotten perfume.

Inside was a room she had almost erased from memory. Tall shelves loomed against the walls, stacked with books whose spines had gone dull with time. A ridiculous beanbag crouched in the corner, slouched as if sulking.

Eri lingered in the doorway, biting her lip. She had found something. Something different from the dull living room, the blank ceiling, the tired hum of rain.

But before stepping inside, another thought struck her.

The house was hers. Completely hers. No grandparents hovering. No parents checking in. No siblings barging through doors. Just her.

A grin curled across her face, slow and mischievous, like a villain in a Christmas movie plotting chaos. She even caught her reflection in the hallway mirror and almost laughed at how much she looked like the Grinch.

And so began the tour of mischief.

First stop, the kitchen. She raided the fridge and freezer, scooping ice cream into a bowl, drowning it in chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and a suspicious amount of whipped cream until it no longer looked like food but a sugar monster. She ate half of it standing at the counter, humming through mouthfuls, then declared it a masterpiece.

Next, she found one of her grandfather’s old video cassettes, slid it into the player, and sat back as the screen flickered. The tape whined, sparkled, and then gave off an alarming fizz of smoke. Her eyes went wide, and she yanked the plug from the socket before it exploded. Laughing nervously, she dusted her hands. “Nope, not dying like this today.” She pulled out her phone and, with a guilty glance toward the broken machine, ordered a new one online. Luckily, she had plenty of saved-up money. Her parents gave her more pocket money than she ever needed, and she never spent much anyway. Friends were not really a thing in her life. She made her own lunches, kept to herself, and the few kids she hung around with at school were more like classmates than companions.

Shrugging, she moved on to the massage chair tucked in her grandmother’s room. The thing looked ancient but still rumbled to life when she pressed the buttons. She squealed as it kneaded her shoulders, nearly bouncing her out of the seat, but she stayed put until her bones felt loose.

Outside, the rain had eased for a moment. She dashed barefoot across the yard to pluck a handful of berries from the bushes, staining her fingers purple as she popped a few into her mouth. Her voice carried in a silly little song on the way back inside, echoing up the staircase.

The bathroom came next, where she sang into the showerhead as if it were a microphone. Her voice cracked on the high notes, and she laughed so hard she nearly slipped on the wet floor.

By the time she launched herself belly-first onto the bed upstairs, bouncing high before flopping flat, she was breathless. She lay sprawled, hair tangled, arms out, staring at the ceiling again. The silence crept back, softer this time, like a cat settling at her feet.

Speaking of cats, she remembered Mr Whiskys. Her grandfather’s old tomcat usually lurked somewhere in the corners of the house, hidden away like a shadow. She hopped off the bed, calling his name. “Whiskyyyys. Come on, show yourself.” 

Her voice echoed through the hall as she padded back toward the forgotten room of books.

Vrrr. Vrrr.

“Ah!” Eri nearly tossed her phone onto the bed. She fumbled it out of her skirt pocket, pressing a hand to her chest. “Sheesh, that scared me. Fuhhh.”

On the screen was a new notification from her grandparents. A picture of them smiling in a lavender field, both wearing matching hats and looking far too delighted for their age.

“Hehe. Shooo cute.” She grinned, tapping quickly. “And forward to the fam group. Done.”

Scrolling further, she froze when another picture popped up. Mr Whiskys. Lounging smugly on Nora’s couch like royalty.

Her smile melted. “What. No way. Betrayal.”

The memory hit her hard.

She was back in the kitchen the morning before her grandparents left, the air warm with cocoa and sugar. Aunts and uncles crowded the table, voices overlapping like a hive of bees. The smell of cookies clung to everything, and on the counter, Mr Whiskys purred as Grandma stroked his fur.

Eri and Nora sat side by side, each clutching a cookie. Crumbs dotted their fingers, and their eyes kept darting toward the cat.

“Grandma,” Eri announced proudly, lifting her chin, “I’m gonna have the best days with Mr Whiskys!”

Grandma’s hand stilled mid-stroke. She glanced at Nora, then back at Eri, her expression shifting like she was replaying a hundred imaginary disasters all at once. Eri and Mr Whiskys, a trail of shredded curtains, overturned vases, mysterious scratches on the furniture. The poor cat with eyes wide in terror.

Grandma cleared her throat, slow and deliberate. “Eri, dear. I’m afraid Nora will be the caretaker for Mr Whiskys because…”

Eri gasped so dramatically she nearly choked on her cookie. “Why, Grandma? Is Eri no good?” Her eyes widened into puppy-dog circles, her voice slipping into a childish whine.

From the corner, Nora slapped a hand over her mouth, laughter bubbling out anyway. Mr Whiskys flicked his tail, unimpressed, as if he already knew the answer.

Grandma patted Mr Whiskys one last time, her voice soft but firm. “It’s not that, Eri. It’s because Nora has a cat tower where—”

“I knew it!” Eri shot up in her chair, pointing an accusatory finger at the cat. “Mr Whiskys, you traitor! I thought you had moved on from that throne and retired to stay with Grandma!”

“Mrow,” Mr Whiskys replied with a lofty flick of his tail. He licked his paw with deliberate slowness, as if unimpressed by the drama, then leapt gracefully down from the counter. His green eyes narrowed in what could only be described as a side glance before he strutted out of the kitchen like a noble dismissing commoners.

Nora doubled over laughing. “Don’t be sad, Eri. You can come around anytime. I live just another row down this neighborhood.”

“Hmph.” Eri crossed her arms, muttering under her breath about betrayal, ungrateful cats, and wasted treats.

Grandma pressed her hand to her chest in relief. “Good, that settles it then. Mr Whiskys will stay with Nora.”

Eri slumped in her chair, sulking into her hot chocolate. In her mind she was already staging an imaginary courtroom trial, accusing Mr Whiskys of crimes against loyalty. The cat would be sentenced to a lifetime of no sardines.

Eri stared at the picture until the lavender colors blurred. She smirked and wagged a finger at the smug cat on Nora’s couch.
“Oh right, the sassy Whiskys stays at Nora. Ha. If it’s not raining I will torture that cat with fish toys.”

She slid the phone back into her skirt pocket and blinked hard, like clearing fog from a window.
“Oh, right. What was I doing again? Oh! Exploring! And what is this wooden door doing here?”

Her knuckles hovered for a second, then she knocked. The sound was small and hollow.

Thunder cracked across the sky, rattling the windows. Eri yelped and clutched her chest.
“Shoot! It’s like the beginning of a nightmare!”

Eri pushed the door open wider and froze.

Books. Shelves crammed with them, from floor to ceiling, walls lined like a fortress of words. A rug sprawled across the floor, frayed at the edges but soft-looking. A lamp leaned sideways on a crooked little table. The beanbag sat slouched near the corner beside an old rocking chair piled with pillows. Papers were stacked here and there, not neat at all, but in a way that made the place feel lived in. Cozy. Secret.

Eri’s jaw dropped.
“Woah! Damn! This is the best literary retreat for me!” She spun in a circle, her skirt twirling, then threw her arms up. “Woohoo!”

She darted to the nearest shelf, her fingers trailing along the spines. Some were thick, leather-bound volumes that smelled like old secrets. Others were slim, colorful novels she recognized from when she was younger. She plucked one free and gasped.
“No way. I read this when I was like, eight. I thought I lost it forever.”

She shoved it back and skipped to another shelf. Here was a whole row of children’s books, their covers bright with dragons and talking animals. Next came encyclopedias, weighty and solemn. She tugged one half out and nearly staggered from the heaviness.
“Ugh, you could kill a guy with this,” she muttered, laughing, before shoving it back in.

Another corner brimmed with cookbooks, the spines splattered and wrinkled like they had seen actual kitchens. Eri flipped through one with wide-eyed curiosity.
“Grandma, you sneaky genius. You hid all the recipes in here.”

There were theory books stacked under a wobbly stool, mysteries stuffed in crooked piles, romances drooping together like tired lovers, science fiction tucked between dusty history tomes. Every shelf was chaos, but the kind of chaos that begged to be explored.

Eri’s grin spread wider the further she went.
“This is insane. It’s like a bookstore just exploded and decided to live in Grandma’s house.”

She twirled again, then flopped into the beanbag, sinking so deep it nearly swallowed her whole. Laughing, she peeked over the edge of a low shelf where yet another stack of novels waited like treasure.