Sunday, July 29, 2007

Phantom Piano

Tink, tink, tink… the raindrops sang as they hit the windowpane. Stretching my arms, I opened my eyes and looked out the window. Captivating music wafted through the floorboards to reach my ears. Smiling, I threw my covers off and glanced at the time. That’s weird. I know I set my alarm for 8:30, yet the big red numbers stated that it’s nearly 9:50. I walked over to it to see if I had set it wrong. No, the alarm was on and it was set for the correct time. I watched the numbers pass. 9:53… 9:54… 9:55… A movement caught my eye and I knelt to take a look under my desk. There on the floor lay the alarm clock cord. It wasn’t plugged in. Astounded, I looked at my clock again. As I watched, the red numbers changed from 9:56 to 9:57. I stood and stumbled backwards. What’s going on? Nervous, I turned and left my room as quickly as possible. I pattered down the stairs and paused on the landing.
Closing my eyes, I tilted my head back, and let the soothing music calm my nerves. When I had more control of myself, I slowly walked down the rest of the stairs and into the hallway. I paused outside my father’s den and listened again to the exquisite music the piano produces when he plays. After a moment I continued on my way to the kitchen. I skipped around the island and opened the refrigerator.
“Orange juice, raspberry jelly, peanut butter, and bread,” I murmured to myself as I pulled each item out of the fridge. After grabbing a knife, I opened the jars and spread their contents onto two pieces of bread. Humming, I twirled my way to the cabinet and pulled out a glass. As I shut the door I saw a note on the countertop.
In a hurried scrawl it read, “Honey, you’re father and I had to make a trip to Nana’s house. We’ll be back by three this afternoon. If you have any problems call Aunt Christy, alright? See you later… Love, Mom.” I looked out through the misting rain and noticed that the minivan was missing. Slowly, I turned towards the kitchen door. The alluring music ended
abruptly.
I’m an only child.

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