At the piano

“I have never been in a haunted house,” said Anita to her friends. The girls were having a sleepover at her place, and the theme for the night was paranormal experiences. “But my aunt was in one such situation in her teens.”

“Sean had lived there with his parents since childhood. When the siblings grew up, they moved out of their parents' home to start their families but never left the locality. He moved to a house down the street from my aunt’s home and as he was married to her uncle’s sister, she used to call him uncle Sean.” 

“One night, their daughter, who was 7 at the time, complained about a terrible headache and the doctors failed to save her from a rare cardiovascular ailment”.

“I am keeping my fingers crossed that it won't be another of those creepypasta,' one of the girls quipped. These young horror story enthusiasts were not prepared to settle for just any story. Hannah’s yawning was a signal that they could get bored rather fast.

“My aunt learnt much later that this was one of those places where many households observed strange things at odd hours. If rumors were to be believed, the deceased souls found it difficult to depart if they died here,” Anita added to keep the interest. “It should come as no surprise that many visitors report strange happenings.”

“The family was devastated, and a sense of Guilt constantly gnawed at their heart, questioning if they could have prevented the tragedy, if they had missed a red flag, a silent sign maybe. Yet, woven through the sorrow was a fierce love, a refusal to let go. They clung to memories by putting up large, framed photos on the outside and feeling her laughter echoing through the inside.”

“They went away temporarily to another city after the funeral, leaving the house in the care of her close relatives. Sean's wife, a musician, opted for music as her therapy and solitude as the vehicle to get her out of this grief” Anita continued.

My aunt’s family often visited the house to ensure it was not falling into disrepair and one afternoon they took my aunt along. She was very excited to find a grand piano in the living room and could not resist the desire to try it. 

“You go check the house while I check out the piano” she told her father. Letting her try the piano, her father and uncle went to check out a few things in the house. 

As she played the piano, she felt something soft brush against her ankles. “It must be my dress”, she thought, dismissing the sensation, and continued playing. Trying to pull her dress up, she realized that she was only wearing a short dress. “Maybe it was one of the neighborhood cats, who strayed in finding the lights on” she assumed. But then, she felt it again.

Fear gripped her heart as she peered under the piano, searching for the source of the touch. But there was nothing there. She resumed playing, her fingers trembling over the keys, her mind racing with a mix of curiosity and dread. Suddenly, she felt tiny hands clasp her legs tightly, pulling them upwards. A scream caught in her throat as she struggled against the unseen force. She leapt from the piano bench and rushed to the basement door, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked up at the wall to notice the picture was missing from the frame.

"Uncle! Dad!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering with fear. Hurriedly, her uncle and father emerged from the basement, their expressions etched with deep concern. "What happened?" uncle inquired, his voice tinged with worry. With her breath still catching, my aunt began to recount the harrowing encounter she had just endured. As she spoke, her uncle's complexion grew visibly pale, and he whispered in a hushed tone, almost inaudible, "It's her."

 The girls were now closer to each other and looking at Anita with curiosity mixed with fear.

“My sister, a talented pianist, used to play this game with her daughter," he said, his voice filled with sadness. "In the evenings, she played the piano, the daughter would crawl underneath, grab her ankles, and push her feet up and down on the pedals.”

 A collective shiver coursed through the spines as the girls envisioned an ethereal presence in the house. Not as a mere ghost, but embodiment of a young girl's playful spirit. The home where she spent all her life has transcended the boundary of life and death to become a sanctuary for her, a place where she could continue to play around her beloved piano, even in death.

Just then, they all turned towards Anita’s piano in unison, did they just hear it playing!





  1. Good story . Who is related to whom should be simplified. It should be more intense . The good part of it was the story was able to hold my interest to the last line .


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