Walking through the old house, the silence was eerie. The hall was empty. I wondered if the stories about it were true.
The swords hanging on the wall, the portraits of slaves and the calabashes. Music drifted from an adjoining room to me.
I moved into the next room to investigate what was happening and there I saw the legendary piano, with the keys moving on its own. The stories were so true. The door behind me open and close of its own accord. My head grew bigger, goosebumps were all over my arms and legs.
I ran out with a speed of light but till now that lovely tune still plays in my head.
Photo credit: Jesse Orrico
In response to Sonya Three Line Tales, Week Eleven
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