She opens her mouth to say something, more than likely about what book I should purchase, but I speak before she can get any words out.
“Was someone playing the piano earlier?”
She tilts her head as if I have just asked her a confusing question.
“Well…I don’t know how to explain this. It won’t make much sense to you, but the piano plays itself.”
She must see the disbelief written across my face because she hastily adds, “Sometimes there is the shadow of a person sitting on the piano bench, but honest to goodness the keys play themselves.”
The music starts playing and I find my body gravitating towards the sound. The keys bob up and down swiftly seemingly of their own accord. My heart leaps as I see the shadow of a person sitting on the bench. If I did not believe the old woman before, I sure do now.
I inch closer to the piano.
Is it a spirit? A ghost? My imagination?
A fast paced jazz tune is echoing throughout the shop. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the inky dust particles. I open my eyes and the head of the shadow is facing toward me. I reach out to touch it, unsure if I should. My hand goes right through the dark form and slowly the music stops playing.
The woman’s hand tugs on my arm. There is a slightly annoyed look on her wrinkled face.
“Why did you go and scare him off?”
I can’t help but ask her, “Him? How do you know that it is a ‘him’?
She chuckles and pushes her glasses up her nose to keep them from sliding off.
“Dear, you can tell by how he plays the piano. There’s such passion behind the sounds. He has so much emotion.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment