Lily had fallen in love with the piano when she first laid eyes on it in the antique shop. It was an exquisite instrument nearly a hundred years old.
Now it occupied the space under the loft. She never dared to play it. An overwhelming dread chilled her bones every time she passed it. At night, she heard the same tune playing over and over. A tune that her father had composed when she was a child.
Then one night, she followed the music downstairs. There he sat, playing her favorite tune. The voice she lent was her six-year-old self.
Word Count: 100
© Josslyn Rae Turner
Photo © John Nixon
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