Reddit’s WritingPrompts: Story ends with “From that day on, the image of that old piano remained in my head, as a deep scar that would never heal.”
My mother loved music.
We had the old piano for as long as I could remember. But she never played it. Mother was very protective of the old piano, once telling me that it was an heirloom. She never let me open the lid, and she wouldn’t let me play with it. For that, like forbidden fruit, I was always drawn to it.
Then, on my 6th birthday, mother pulled me into her lap and let me play on the old piano. It was the best birthday gift I ever got. I just enjoyed pressing the keys and hearing the notes carry around the room. I never thought it was weird that only six of the black keys worked. It didn’t matter. I was in love. I can still remember the sounds that resonated through me that day. The notes were odd and warped, but it made the old piano that more endearing to me.
And after that, mother was always by the piano. She would always be playing, or teaching me, or watching me play. And there were certain days I would come home, and mother would be sitting at the bench, a secretive smile on her face, “Come, come! I have a surprise!” I would sit down, and she would ask me to play through a piece. And like Christmas on my birthday, as my hands rolls across the keys, a new sound would echo through house. I would look up at her in such reverent glee. She got a black key fixed.
This was how I found my love for music. These precious moments I had with my mother made me share her love of music. For each note that got restored through the years, I loved it more. For how much she loved music, I never understood why she never pursued it. I asked her multiple times, but she would always say, “Oh, I had a chance once, but other things came up. And where would you be, if I had chosen to be grand pianist?” She would then kiss my temple and show me a key position.
She was a great piano teacher. By the time I finished high school, I had many schools and jobs lined up, all I had to do was chose. But there was one that my mother wanted me to have more than any other; the pianist position at the McElree Opera House. She had contacted them over and over again, wanting me to have that position.
I got the a call that the person they were going to give the position to, some well known Europe pianist, was no longer available. I had got the job. I wasn’t happy, or ecstatic. In fact, I was horrified. I didn’t want the position. All McElree pianists were cursed. For the last twenty years, no one has held that position for more than 6 months. Some got threatening notes, some got too freaked out about the rumors of the curse and left, and quite a few had accidents. Those that persevered through the 6 months ended up dead, hanging from the ceiling with dulled piano wire. While all the reports said suicide, some believe there was a serial killer with a vendetta against McElree.
I closed my eyes, trying not too freak out. However, my mother was grinning and clapping her hands. “I’m so proud of you!” I gently grabbed her arms, “But mom, I don’t want to work there.” She grinned and grabbed my hand to pull me to the living room, “Don’t be silly. Come, sit down and play me a tune.” I sat down, slightly defeated. She was so happy right now, I couldn’t destroy that. I’d bring it up later.
I started to play, and as I hit one of the dead keys, I looked up in surprise as a new note played. I turned to her in surprise, “You fixed another one?” She nodded excitedly, “Of course. It was a surprise for you getting the job!” I tilted my head curiously, “How did you know I’d get it?” She just grinned and started playing the piano herself. “You were destined for that job. I knew. I knew the moment I had to give up that job to have you, that you would make me proud and get my job back.”
I grabbed her hand, stopping her, “Wait, that’s why you wanted me to have this job? You worked there?” She just grinned and patted my cheek, “Yes, of course. I was destined for that job, and so are you. I made sure that nothing would stand in your way.” She went back to playing as I sat in thought. Nothing would stand in my way? She couldn’t possibly mean that. could she?
But by then, everything started to make sense. My mother was the curse. My mother scared, harmed- Oh my god, my mother killed people! I got up and slowly walked over to the phone. As I picked it up, I looked back at mother. As she starts playing a new song, I made the call.
From then, it was a swirl of motion and blurred lights and chaos. There was police, and news vans, and questions. “McElree killer identified!” “McElree Curse or Motherly Love Gone To Far?” As I heard the headlines, all I could do was sit in shock as people asked me questions.
I didn’t see anything. I didn’t know anything.
The only thing I did know was that I would never touch a piano again. And from that day on, I knew the image of that old piano would remain in my head, as a deep scar that would never heal.
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