The Sound of the Last Note

Elara sat on the dusty piano bench in the attic, staring at the antique keys with fingers hovering in hesitation. The piano hadn’t been touched in over fifty years, not since her grandmother, Lidia, mysteriously vanished without a trace.

No one in the family ever spoke of her. It was as if Lidia had evaporated from history, leaving only her piano, her music, and a peculiar rumor-that the final note of her last composition could open a door to somewhere else.

Elara had heard the whispers since childhood. Her mother dismissed them, calling them "old people’s nonsense." But Elara, a dreamer with a curious streak, believed otherwise. She’d always been drawn to this attic, with its dusty sunlight and forgotten secrets.

Today was the day she would finally play it. Lidia’s composition: Nocturne of Echoes.

The sheet music lay yellowed on the stand. Elara opened it gently, as if it might crumble. The notes were handwritten, the ink fading but still legible. She took a deep breath and began to play.

The melody started soft and haunting, like a lullaby from a forgotten world. Each note stirred the air like a whisper from the past. As Elara’s fingers moved across the keys, the attic began to feel...different. Warmer. Vibrating faintly.

She reached the final bar of the composition. One last note remained. According to the myth, it was the note.

Elara hesitated.

What if it was just a story?

What if it wasn’t?

She pressed the key.

Ding.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the walls shimmered.

The air wavered, like a heat haze. The piano glowed faintly, and the air rippled as if a veil had been lifted. Elara blinked-and she was no longer in the attic.

She stood in a room that mirrored the attic exactly, except cleaner, untouched by dust or time. A woman stood by the window, her back turned.

Elara’s breath caught.

"Grandma...?"

The woman turned. It was Lidia-but no older than twenty-five, the age she'd disappeared.

“Elara,” she said, smiling softly. “You found me.”

Elara’s knees nearly buckled. “You’re alive?”

“In a way,” Lidia replied. “This place is a memory. Or a dream. Or both.”

Elara stepped forward, confused and overwhelmed. “What is this place?”

Lidia touched the piano. “It’s a pocket of reality, hidden in sound. I created it accidentally while composing. Music can do that-bend time, open doors. I played the last note...and I came here.”

“Why didn’t you come back?” Elara asked.

Lidia looked down. “At first, I tried. But every time I returned, more time had passed. A day here was a year there. Eventually, everyone I knew was gone-or had forgotten me. Except you.”

Tears welled in Elara’s eyes. “So you’ve just been...here? Alone?”

Lidia nodded. “I thought maybe someone would find the note. Someone like me.”

They sat beside each other on the piano bench. Elara noticed another composition resting nearby. Fresh ink. Unplayed.

“This is yours?” she asked.

Lidia smiled. “No. It’s yours. I wrote the first few bars, but it’s your turn now.”

Elara stared at the notes. The melody shimmered in her mind, unfinished and full of promise. She placed her fingers on the keys and began to play.

As the music filled the air, the room shifted again. This time, the shimmer grew brighter, like dawn breaking through clouds. Lidia’s form began to fade slightly.

“Elara,” she said quickly, “This place-it can’t hold both of us for long. Finish the song. Take it with you. It’ll be your key. You can come back when you’re ready.”

Elara shook her head, tears slipping down her cheek. “But I just found you!”

Lidia cupped her face gently. “You found yourself. That was always the point.”

The music rose, and with the final chord, the light swallowed the room.

Elara gasped-and she was back in the attic.

The piano was warm under her fingers.

The sheet music was different now. Her name was on it.

Nocturne of Echoes, Part II – by Elara Maren.

From that day on, Elara became a composer. Her music captivated everyone who heard it—haunting, beautiful, otherworldly. But only she knew the truth:

That somewhere beyond the last note, her grandmother waited.