Flash Fiction Fridays: The Pianist

Furiously banging on my piano keys, I tried to force her spirit out like an exorcist drunk on hysteria.

Her humming always seemed to grow louder as the days grew shorter and the nights wore on, the added darkness inviting her in without my consent.

Etude after etude I could feel her drawing nearer, causing the hair on the back of my neck to prickle upwards in anticipation.

Her disembodied voice hanging in the air, I refused to look around. I would not, could not,  meet those cold staring eyes.

Tick, tick, tick of the metronome. Taunting. Measuring her steps.

Faster, I must play faster.

She cannot reach me while my hands are moving.

Madman, they say. Haunted, I say.

I feel her breath on my cheek.

Fingers slip.

Tick, tick, tick—silence.


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