The melodic notes of the old piano spiraled across the polished hardwood floors; an unwelcome illusion. Alexandria was the only person who remained, trapped within the walls of a crumbling manor as neglected as time itself, and had not dared touch the instrument since her father’s untimely demise.
The ethereal melody danced around the dust and cobwebs and pirouetted towards her, seeking entry into the intricacies of her already burdened thoughts, and she sighed aloud, hoping that the actual sound would overcome and remove the illusion of the past.
It did not.
Sweeping an unsteady hand through her auburn curls, tangles that she could not bring herself to comb or bother to maintain, she shut her eyes and sunk further into the chaise, her fantasies at an end as ghosts haunted her self-created world.
Entrapped within the endless repetition of a thousand uneventful, lifeless days, her only escape was the wistful dreams she now considered reality, an escape from the mundane, and as the pianic cacophony strengthened, nausea tainted the back of her throat.
She swallowed down the horrid taste, wincing as saliva plummeted into her stomach, and slowly glanced behind her.
The dark doorway beckoned, the tune’s call too great to resist as it sang out from a room no-one had entered for… she furrowed her brow — she no longer knew; time had passed as illusory as her dreams, as the ghostly music, as her own life as she contemplated her flawed existence.
She was now incapable of separating fantasy from reality.
Did it even matter?
The floorboards were as ice beneath her feet. When had she last stood upright? It had to have been hours. Days. Her legs wobbled beneath the unaccustomed weight of her gaunt frame and with one uncertain foot, Alexandria took the first unlikely step towards a room of regret, of failed hopes, of faded promised.
The haunting melody increased in tempo and her gut tightened, a cold sweat crept over her brow, and her saliva vanished. The fingers that flew across the keys sped faster than any mere mortal could ever hope to perform. It was impossible; she was still trapped in her imagination.
Her trembling hand touched the door-frame and a chill tickled her neck, the small hairs on her arms stood on end, and she shivered.
The music stopped.
Alexandria stood frozen in place, the seconds as hours as slow tears rolled down her cheeks… each drop a gift for her ghosts, her dreams, and her eternity.
This is something that I posted on Steemit when I first joined, but for the life of me, I can’t find it to link it here… I’ve even tried googling bits and pieces of it, with site:steemit.com in the search, but there are no results. Mandela Effect? Who can say.
Anyway, this version is not quite the same as the previous version. And it’s unfinished compared to the first, but I kind of like ending it where I do in this one. The original was more of a horror, where the ghosts feed upon the girl and her family curse… this one is simply a girl battling her mind.
I fixed a lot of superfluous words and terrible sentence structure. Grammarly doesn’t like my dialect but I don’t care; it’s mine. This is how I like writing. And I no longer care if it’s considered “wrong.” And I’m still disappointed I can’t find the original to compare it to.
The header image is CC0 and courtesy of Pixabay!
Thank you for reading – I hope you enjoyed it!
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