In an old house, grand with riches and time, there is a small, out-of-the-way room. In this small room, there is a very old piano. Once, long ago, a little girl loved the old piano. She would play melody after melody, letting the music go crashing through the house. But her time was a cruel one, and sickness bore her off at an early age.

For a long time, the piano was left alone, in the dark, gathering dust. A remnant of the past which fell out of tune and into disrepair. Families came and families went, but no-one spared a second glance for the ancient piano.

Sometimes new hands would lie on the ivories, but they never stayed after hearing the discordant mess the piano produced for them. The piano sat, waiting for someone to care enough to fix it.

Annie and her family moved into the old house, after her mother got a job in the area. She was reluctant to go, and was sorely missing her friends, her garden, and most of all, her piano. She was delighted to see the ancient piano in the small room. A familiar face in a world of strangers.

Her father’s friend came and tuned the piano and Annie excitedly plucked her favourite tune from the worn keys, a story written by a lonely man from ages past, mourning his lost love.

Everyone in the house at the time could agree, the strangest feeling overtook each one. The most gut-wrenching, heart-pounding, soul-tearing, grief that any had felt in their lifetime.

Every day, after school, Annie would run up the stairs and into the little room and would stay there until her mother called her down for dinner. She would hunt high and low for new songs and the more she played the piano, the more it lurked in her thoughts.

Her father and mother began to worry, as Annie became more and more withdrawn. She became more and more preoccupied with her own thoughts, and went days without speaking. Her parents decided to send her to a camp over summer break, hoping against reason that this would help their baby girl.

They dropped Annie off at camp and told her to make friends, to have fun, to be safe. The counsellors assured them she would be fine, as people are wont to do, and shepherded Annie to a hall where they would tell them about the activities. All throughout, Annie remained silent.

After two hours at camp, Annie began to shake. She cried and begged to be sent back to her beloved piano. She clawed at her head and at her arms and screamed like a banshee at any who came close to her. She yelled about spirits crawling across the ground and up the trees, and piano music playing softly in the background, beckoning her to her home.

The counsellors tried to comfort her but eventually gave up. They guided her to a bed and left someone to watch her to make sure she didn’t get hurt.

In the morning, they went to wake her and discovered her missing. She was found two hours later wandering on the road, halfway back home, her feet cut and bloodied from walking barefoot for over six hours. When they tried to talk to her, she retained a blank look on her face and ignored them. It was only when her parents arrived did she notice she wasn’t alone.

She was kept in the hospital for three days. Strange things occurred to those who visited her. Several nurse’s bones were broken, her GP was blinded with acid in a freak accident, and her psychologist was driven to insanity after their third session. She was eventually sent home, her parents becoming more worried every minute they spent with her.

When they arrived home, Annie disappeared to the piano room. She played songs that she had never played before, songs that she had never heard before. Strange songs which sent shivers up your spine. Her parents tried to get her to come down for dinner, but she had locked the doors.

She played and played for nearly two weeks, her parents being so scared they moved out and visited only to place food outside the door, food which was never eaten.

On the thirteenth day, a discordant note was heard, followed by a scream. Annie’s mother rushed to the room and found it to be unlocked. In place of her daughter she saw something wearing her Annie’s favourite dress, something wearing her Annie’s favourite hair bows something wearing her Annie’s face. But it was distinctly not Annie.

It had a sickening expression of pure agony, it’s extruding limbs were blackened and burnt, and it’s eyes were as lifeless as the grave. As Annie’s mother entered, it turned and as the cacophonous note faded into oblivion, it let out a sigh and crumbled to dust.

Annie’s parents were quick to move after that. They lived their lives as best they could and tried to move on from their daughter’s last days. Annie’s father invested in aromatherapy and her mother threw herself into her work. They thought it done. They thought that the nightmare was behind them. But they who control our fates are cruel, cruel beings.

And so it was deigned,

that the next family which happened to move in,

had a little daughter,

who loved to play piano.