A Duet, Four Hands – Written by Tom Mason

It would play at night; a soaring piece that danced through the corridors of the museum. Crotchets shook the vases on their pedestals and quavers played hide and seek through the bones of dead beasts; half of a melody that scared the torch out of the security guard’s hand.

Eventually, the museum sold the piano to an antiques shop on the edge of town. The instrument was haunted, so muttered the security guard.

But the old man of the antiques shop was not afraid of ghosts. He had lived in the store all his life and the echoes of the past, tagged and displayed on the shelves in the room below, did not concern him. When the half melody woke him, drifting up the stairs and in through the keyhole, he slipped out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown.

The old man sat by the piano, stroking the grey stubble on his chin as he watched the keys move. The song was incomplete.

‘A duet, four hands,’ he smiled, before gently pressing his fingers to the bass clef. The piece, whole, danced around the shelves, a melody that echoed through the fragmented walls of time, scaring the silver tray from the butler’s hand.

‘This piano is haunted,’ muttered the butler.

‘Nonsense, the governess replied, staring at her reflection in the shining wood. ‘It’s brand new.’

When the half melody woke her, drifting up the stairs and in through the keyhole, she slipped out of bed and pulled on her dressing robe.

She sat by the piano, stroking her chin as she watched the keys move. The song was incomplete. She smiled, before gently pressing her fingers to the treble clef.

The piece, whole, danced around the dining hall, a melody that echoed through the fragmented walls of time, scaring the torch out of the security guard’s hand.

Words: 311