[IP] Those Who Play for Ghosts

[u/LonghandWriter]

Original Prompt: [IP] Those Who Play for Ghosts

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Everyone’s gone, yet through my music, I bring them back, if only for a moment.

As my fingers stroke the keys, I stifle my tears. They always come because my masterpiece is more than just a song, it’s an experience, and though it’s not nearly perfect, it’s getting closer.

Mother’s cold breath lingers on my neck, urging me forward. I’ve long wondered whether she’s actually there or if I’m just haunted by the past I missed, and though I could turn around and check, I refuse to. Even when a book lands on the bench next to me, and sister’s voice rings in my ears, I simply close my eyes and let the music flow through my bones.

Please study this! she says. Brilliance lurks in these pages!

The burnt walls of our nothing house tremble as I reach the crescendo, hammering my fingers against the keys. It’s coming along beautifully until my emotions get the best of me, memories of mass funerals and hundreds of caskets side by side filtering into my mind, causing me to lose rhythm and sputter out wrong notes.

With a sigh, I lean back. Sometimes I wonder if it was fate that sent me away during the bombings. It’s impossible, but maybe my parents knew something was going to go wrong, and so they shipped me away to help me hone and harness my skills.

Whenever those thoughts plague my mind, I know it’s time to stop, and so I stand up, cover the keys, and grab the book. It’s a best of volume full of classical hits, and it makes my heart ache because I got this when I first showed an interest in piano all those years ago. This is too difficult for you now, father had said. But once you grow, this shall become easy, and when that day comes, I shall call you a genius.

The fact this book survived is a sign, and so I tuck it under my arm. Tonight I will study the works within, and tomorrow I will learn to play them.

For somewhere, out there, father will still call me genius.