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Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2093697
An old piano sits in a shadowy attic. Entry for the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge
She trailed a finger down the dusty keys of the piano. Beneath the pressure of her fingertip, an ivory veneer slipped off a key and fell to the floor. Sighing, she picked it up and placed it with the others. The pile of ivory had grown so large she could probably sell them for a profit! She really must contact Mr. Yardley at the music center to come glue the veneers back on. The instrument was in need of a good tuning as well.

She rose and crossed to the secretary where she kept her address book. It wasn’t in its usual place in the center drawer. That was odd. She pulled out one drawer, then the next, searching for the small leather book amongst her stationary.

Perhaps her husband had borrowed it?

Calling Reginald’s name she headed downstairs. On the third step, that familiar, chilling breeze past over her skin. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. If she believed in ghosts she would swear this house was haunted.

The young couple entered the attic and approached the antique piano. The woman stared down at the keys and counted quietly. “Twelve,” she said. “Now there are twelve broken keys.”

Her husband looked around the shadowy room. “I’m sure it just fell off, honey.”

“But it’s here! In the pile! And I told you, I heard the piano.”

He smiled reassuringly. “Maybe it was a squirrel.”

“Right,” she said doubtfully. “This old house scares me. Let’s move, please.”

He ushered her toward the door. “Nothing’s here. I promise.”

He turned to glance over the attic one last time. Then he noticed it. The drawers of the secretary had been opened, their contents piled upon the desk.

He hurried to lock the door. “You know, I have been missing the city.”

Word count: 298
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2093697