Broken Mirror. 7. A piano

"TALES OF GHOSTS"

about Love and Death from the Land of Mists
a collection of short stories
in the “Playing Another Reality” series

"BROKEN MIRROR"

7. A PIANO

Grigory carefully climbed the stairs to the top floor of an already empty five-story building, which was to be demolished, and approached the apartment indicated in the ad. The door was ajar, but there was no light inside. Grigory was about to knock, when a girl in a long black robe with a gothic hood floated to meet him out of the pitch darkness and gestured to follow her.

“Sorry, it’s so dark in here,” she apologized. “The electricity has already been cut, and the candles have run out.”

After passing through the gloomy living room with antique furniture, covered with a layer of century-old dust, Grigory found himself in a small room, where there was nothing but a lonely piano against the bare wall, a stool, a giant mirror with a cobweb-like crack right in the center and two almost completely burnt candles on the windowsill.

“M-yes! It smells gothic! Only ghosts are missing!” thought Grigory. However, the hostess could easily pass for a ghost, having almost transparent skin and such a thin figure, immersed in an oversize witches’ robe and silently sliding down the parquet floor.

“How much do you want for it?” asked Grigory, casting a glance at the piano flooded with Moonlight. “Of course, it looks like a new one, but I don’t play myself.”

“So you’re not a tuner, are you?”

Grigory nodded.

“Thank God!” the girl breathed a sigh of relief. “You know, tuners often deceive people. They say that the piano cannot be repaired at all, in order to pick up even a new instrument for free, and then resell it at exorbitant price. However, in my case, money doesn’t matter. I would like to pass my piano in good hands.”

“I’m looking for the piano for my son. He’s going to music school this year.”

“So would you like me to play something?” the girl offered happily.

“It would be nice of you!”

Her transparent fingers ran over the keys, and the room was filled with magical sounds. The waves of vibrations, exciting and taking the soul to its great Primary Source, seemed to have moved Grigory into some Other Reality, and when the silence reigned back, he was in a state of stupor for a long time. What had that music been? Who had played it?

“This piano is my best friend,” the girl confessed. “It silently listened to all my whims and obeyed my hands. How many years have I shared with it my sorrows and joys? I love it too much, and I won’t be able to calm down until I pass it in good hands…”

“The girl speaks as soulfully as she plays the piano!” thought Grigory. “She probably really needs money.”

“You play superbly, and this melody…” he said aloud.

“It came to me now itself… from somewhere above… probably…”

“Well, I’ll call the movers, they are waiting at the entrance.”

“Please… don’t hurt it!” the girl leaned against the piano. “I feel so much pain to say goodbye to it, as if I were… betraying it.”

“Well, of course, don’t worry! I won’t let my son hurt your friend! Apparently, you really need money, otherwise you wouldn’t give it away!”

***

“How old is the piano?” the tuner asked Grigory.

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Did you buy it off hand?”

“Yes, last night. An ad of a girl…”

“How much did you pay for it?”

“She was ready to give it away for free, but the piano became her best friend, so…”

“The impudent girl was just trying to make the price up! It’s not worth a penny! To get it into working order, you have to replace absolutely everything! It will cost you the same as buying a new one!” the tuner stated.

“Who would have doubted that!” exclaimed the wife of the woe-buyer. “You can’t be trusted with anything!”

“This can’t be true!” Grigory said in surprise. “She played it divinely, perfectly! I have never heard such beautiful sounds! It cried with her! I swear you this cannot be!”

“Of course, sometimes a piano is out of tune after transportation, although that happens rarely,” commented the tuner.

“And where shall we put it now?!” the woman was indignant.

“Listen, I have an idea!” said the tuner, smiling slyly. “I can take out this rubbish absolutely free of charge if you purchase a piano suitable for your son from my workshop! I have several ones ready. Yes, they are expensive, but worth the price!”

“What a blessing that we call you! We’ll be so grateful!” the woman exclaimed gleefully, escorting the tuner to the door.

Grigory walked up to the piano, stroked its snow-white keys and said quietly, “Sorry, you loved her too much.”

1997