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| - The house was built in the late 1900's and had been owned by two previous owners before Damion's grandmother; a farmer and his wife, who had died shortly after purchasing the house, and a lost family whose file was unavailable. This made me paranoid, since I believed in paranormal things like ghosts and hauntings; but Damion convinced me that it was nothing. "They probably just lost the file in a fire or something, don't think too much about it," he had told me, trying to make me feel better about going on the trip. I had agreed in haste, but uncertainty was still there.
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| abstract
| - The house was built in the late 1900's and had been owned by two previous owners before Damion's grandmother; a farmer and his wife, who had died shortly after purchasing the house, and a lost family whose file was unavailable. This made me paranoid, since I believed in paranormal things like ghosts and hauntings; but Damion convinced me that it was nothing. "They probably just lost the file in a fire or something, don't think too much about it," he had told me, trying to make me feel better about going on the trip. I had agreed in haste, but uncertainty was still there. We soon reached the old farm building, and the hair on the back of my head stood on end. The building wasn't much to look at, it was made of wood which was rotting from age, the deck had been repaired and looked new but the rest of the building looked desolate and decomposed. The windows were broken and those that weren't broken were covered in a green mold-like substance, that smelled musty and disgusting. Damion smiled weakly at me, and I sighed, grabbing my stuff and bringing it inside. The door creaked loudly as I opened it, and it got stuck when it was halfway open, so I had to kick it open. "This place is a dump," I had mumbled as I walked in; the inside worse than the outside. The wallpaper was peeling off the rotting wood, some of the floorboards were broken, cracked, or sticking out of place. The furniture was soaked and molded over, and some of the fabric was torn. Out of everything in the room, there was one thing that truly caught my attention amongst the rubble and discord - a black piano in the corner of the room. It had flowers hand-carved on the painted wood, the keys were pure white and black, and it seemed in almost perfect condition. "What's that?" I asked Damion as he walked in. He had looked at the piano and smiled a gently but unsure, as if he were trying to find a way to explain it. Soon he had taken a deep breath and explained to me what it was. As I listened to him explaining, my curiosity and desire for the piano started growing. He told me that the piano had been there since before his grandmother had lived in the house, yet she never moved it. The previous owners never gave it to anyone in their will when they died. But what was stranger then that, was the fact that no one in Damion's family had ever played or touched the piano. Almost as if the instrument was a insignificant. Like it was nothing more then a speck of dust in an arid desert. I asked him more and more questions, most of them revolving around the piano and the house. My curiosity was taking it's toll and Damion soon became annoyed and stopped answering my questions. He took me to a spare bedroom since he was taking his grandmother's room, then we unpacked and got settled into our home for a few weeks. That night when me and Damion were watching television in the living room, my eyes kept wandering towards the old piano in the corner. Damion wasn't paying attention to me, because the t.v. was on. I stood up and slowly walked towards the piano. I stroked the keys which felt oddly cold even though the piano was close to the fireplace which was burning a blazing inferno. I pressed down on one of the keys gently, but no sound came out. So I pushed a little harder...Still however, no sound came out. I got frustrated and started pressing on multiple keys trying to get sound out of it, but I couldn't do it. I sighed and walked out of the room, frustrated by the piano. I went to the spare room and went to sleep on the uncomfortable bed. That night I woke up to a scratching noise on the wall. It was quiet but distinct. I sat up in bed, my heart pounding in my chest. The room was cold, colder then it should have been at that moment. I stood up, my heart racing from something I couldn't explain, a feeling of terror perhaps. My adrenaline was pumping as I walked out of the room. I kept a close eye on the surroundings around me. I heard the gentle playing of a piano. It wasn't very loud or obnoxious, and it played three keys, being played over and over. The piano sounded sad even though not much was being played. I walked into the living room and saw a little girl dressed in an old white gown. She said nothing, but she was playing the piano with a melancholy look on her face. As I watched her, I got lost in her sorrowful face. I almost didn't notice the music suddenly getting more violent and wrathful. Soon she slammed her hands on the keyboard and everything went silent. I held my breath as I watched her get up from the bench then turn to me. She stayed silent and so did I. She raised her arm slowly and scratched on the wall gently. I kept my eyes on her and out of the corner of my eye I saw what she was doing. She carved: "Get out" on the wall. I took my eyes away from her and looked at the wall as she let out a blood-curdling scream. I wanted to run but I couldn't move. My body was paralyzed with fear. She backed up and mumbled something in an unknown language, then left the house without another word. I never saw her again after that, but the next day the house burned down. Damion and I left the property and never spoke of it again. The only thing that survived the fire was that old piano. No one questioned it and no one got rid of it. It just sits in the rubble, waiting for the next person to touch it and summon its lone player.
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