[ WP ] Write a story where the floor is literally lava .

Rory seated the helmet on his head, connected the power cable for the personal AC system, and then slipped the asbestos lined gloves onto his hands before reaching to grasp the thick brass rings set in the large metal door and swinging it wide. He poked his head through and surveyed the next room. He could n't reach the light switch from where he stood, but the room was redly lit from below by its own thick, bubbling floor. 
 
 The sofa, coffee table, and armchair were all still there, each protected by glowing Runes of Frost which prevented them from bursting into flames ( or melting in the case of the cast iron coffee table ). But they were all too far away to be of any immediate help. They were bunched in the opposite side of the room, bobbing and turning slightly. They appeared to have been gradually swept across the room by the slow moving fiery current as it travelled from the hallway toward the kitchen. Rory realized he would have to be daring. 
 
 Fortunately he had prepared for this. The nightly forecast had called for a 75 % chance of Lava Transmutation today, so he had gotten ready last night before he had climbed into his hammock to sleep suspended from the ceiling. He had hoisted the nightstand on a rope and hung it from the lighting fixture. The bed would have been better, but it was too heavy and would have pulled the fixture down. At least he had been saved the trouble of making the bed this morning: it, of course, was a charred ruin by now. 
 
 So carefully testing the weight of the nightstand in his arms, he made his best guess as to the right amount of force to use, and then tossed the nightstand halfway between the door and the cast iron bookshelves. It landed with a strange noise that was half thump and half plop, and then sank slightly into the gooey, blazing surface until it reached the more solid subsurface of clay over the bedrock base beneath. The legs of the nightstand almost immediately caught fire, and Rory realized he did n't have too much time to think this next step through. 
 
 That was probably a blessing, since if he spent too much time thinking about it, he might very well chicken out. So instead, he took a running start and flung himself across the gap then landed atop the nightstand with his arms outstretched. As soon as he hit, the whole structure listed slightly as one leg sank lower than the others, and he flailed his arms in a circular motion to recover his wobbly balance. The momentum change shifted the large clumsy bubble helmet he wore. It slipped forward and smacked him on the back of his head, but he did n't let it distract him. He did n't dare. 
 
 On a roll now, he bent at the knees and prepared himself to spring. He needed to be quick: flames creeping up the side of the nightstand were already becoming visible over the sides. He would have to make a nice high standing jump to clear them, in fact. A moment later, he did so, and grabbed for the bookcase. Looking back over one shoulder, he bid a silent farewell to the remnants of the rapidly disintegrating nightstand behind him. Then he shimmied along the bookcase, which fortunately was mounted firmly to the wall, allowing himself some reasonably stable climbing for a short while. 
 
 When Rory reached the far end, he had a decision to make. He let go with one hand so he could pivot to look at the cluster of furniture near the eastern wall. The armchair was closest, but it was such a narrow target. The coffee table made a nice long landing pad, but he was n't sure he liked the cockeyed way it was tilted toward the center of the room. If he landed wrong and could n't recover balance fast enough… No, it was going to have to be the sofa. 
 
 He scrambled up to the very top shelf of the bookcase. Luckily, his wife had insisted on the apartment with twelve foot ceilings. At the time, all Rory had thought about was the extravagant rent, and how his wife had expensive tastes. Now, it gave him some reassuring head clearance as he crouched atop the bookshelf and prepared to spring. He angled for his target of choice and bobbed up and down a few times preparing himself, then leaped! 
 
 His ankle hit the nearest arm of the sofa, and his work shoes ( not really designed for this kind of activity ) caught the fabric badly, sending him into a forward roll. Luckily, this just demonstrated that he had made the right choice in selecting the sofa, because the roll slammed him up against the back of the sofa, absorbing most of the momentum of his tumble. It would leave a bruise, but that was n't so bad, considering the alternative. 
 
 Now almost home free. He rose, dusted himself off, and loped across the sofa until he was within a few short feet of the door to the kitchen. He gave a mighty hop and grabbed hold of the door frame with his arms, letting his legs swing around the frame and sure enough, there was a row of kitchen chairs, each with a chilly blue Rune of Frost, neatly lined up, leading to the table. God bless Mary! 
 
 Rory nimbly hopped from chair to chair until he reached the table, then sat down upon it in a lotus position. He took some deep, relaxing breaths to break the tension while the table bobbled slightly in the increasingly sluggish current. Then he turned to his wife Mary, who was squatting on the countertop next to the stove, calmly tending a frying pan from which wafted a heavenly aroma. 
 
 `` I made us a couple of omelettes,'' she said calmly in the hellish sheen formed by the lava light mixing with the reddish-golden glow of sunrise. `` The recipe your Dad gave us.'' 
 
 `` The one with cayenne and ghost peppers?'' he asked. 
 
 `` Yep. Almost finished. And the coffee should be ready in a minute. You want to get a couple of mugs out? I ca n't really leave this.'' 
 
 Rory pushed himself up, walked to the edge of the table, and stepped easily onto the countertop beside the sink. He had to duck down to reach into the cabinet and pulled out two mugs. He made two cups of black coffee and returned to the table with them as Mary finished up the omelettes. 
 
 But before they could eat, he heard the distinctive AROOOOGA! horn of Mick's airship pulling up outside. `` Uh oh,'' he told Mary. `` Mick's early.'' 
 
 `` Tell him to wait! You have to eat,'' she told him. 
 
 `` Sorry Hon. You know how he is on Lava Days. No patience whatsoever. All the updraft plays havoc with the airship and it takes twice as long to get anywhere. I got ta go. I'll just take a coffee with me.'' 
 
 `` Well, that's just fine!'' she said irritably. `` I'll feed your breakfast to the Fire Elementals out back. Maybe *they'll* appreciate it.'' There was no point in saying anything. Rory just told himself he'd better keep his mouth shut and it would blow over by evening when she calmed down. It was the heat, he reminded himself. Everyone was irritable on a Lava Day. 
 
 Taking his coffee mug in one hand, he opened the window, squeezed through, and grabbed the rope ladder hanging down from Mick's airship. He held onto the ladder as the airship ascended, and took his time to finish his coffee in one long gulp before tossing the mug into the flames that were consuming his lawn then waved to Mary before climbing up into the gondola. God how he hated Lava Days! 

