Misery Sonata

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Not far from it, seeming to absorb the orange glow, stood the grand piano, which slumbered deep within a cocoon of cobwebs. The woman swiped the shroud away, soiling her sixteen button opera gloves. But no matter, the once diamond encrusted sleeves were tattered and their fingertips torn. She glanced around the room once more, overjoyed to have returned home.

Overhead, the immense crystal chandelier dangled, sending shards of light dancing across the hall, illuminating the felt dressed balconies. Even the drab seats of the orchestra section glittered. Before taking her place on the bench, she adjusted her dress, flattened some of the folds while hiding the color worn spots. She turned away from the piano, watched the masses swell the aisles, eager to find their reservations. They’d come just for her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been on stage yet, but she didn’t care—too long had passed since she’d played.

So many young attendees, she noted. Most likely students come to study. And learn much they would, she told herself. Tonight could be the most important night of their lives. Soon, smoke filled the hall, a myriad of intoxicating scents spinning their way to her nostrils and enveloping the piano. The lights dimmed and the spotlight found her amongst the fog.

She struck the first key.

Thud.

He had arrived. And with him, dread.

Thud.

She increased the tempo, hoping to appease him, slow his descent.

Thud, thud, thud.

The hall trembled. The spotlight burst, showering her with glass. Sparks rolled down her sleeves, eating at the silk. With her heart in her throat, she played with a violence she’d never before instilled. Some of the crowd cheered while others gasped. The smoke encapsulated her arms, invigorated her fingers to push through the pain. She couldn’t allow him to appear. He slowed, almost to a crawl.

Wait, I’ve done this before? Paranoia wreaked havoc on her mind.

Thud.

Behind her, a shadow grew. Watching … Waiting.

As if given life by her notes, the smoke tried to ensnare the shadow. But as a snake to a mongoose, the smoke was broken. With a crack, the chandelier plummeted, crushed the piano. Despite the mountain of splintered wood, the keys remained. They leapt to life and surrounded her. And like the sapphire necklace around her neck, they tightened, imprisoning her on the stage.

“My love,” an aching voice cooed. “My love, why do you hide?”

Her gloves withered away; her fingertips raw. The faded spots of her dress turned red. And it was then she felt the knife. No matter how much blood escaped, she knew it wouldn’t end the pain. As his hand gripped her throat, she remembered … She remembered everything.

“Yes … More, my love. More.”

But she refused. Playing stopped nothing. Her neck snapped, head smacking her shoulder. She was dead.

The hall wilted, and the decrepit cabin walls returned—the ruined chandelier just a pile of broken champagne glasses. The felt of the balconies tumbled to the floor as moldy rugs. The bench she sat on morphed to a lopsided stool, and the stage to warped floorboards. But the worst … The worst were the drab seats. In their place, corpses littered the floor.

He’d whisked her away to this cabin decades ago so she could play and he could write … in peace. Little did she know, he meant eternal peace. Soon after, college students began breaking in for a weekend of fun. And he killed them. The candle she lit each instance proved futile. While the flame seemed only to attract people, she began playing her sonata in hopes to ward off curious minds.

But now, she and her crazed love were a sideshow. “The woman at the piano,” she remembered hearing one group say. “When does he kill her?” another asked. “After the song … Watch her neck.”

And it was there she faded as he snuffed the candle, to forget and reappear whenever more thrill seekers approached. And it was there she’d try to save them, only to die at her piano for eternity.