Alfred stopped on his normal morning walk to get his newspaper when he heard the piano notes. He looked about, wondering where the music was coming from. The house windows all around him either had curtains or blinds blocking his view and through the rest he could see flowers and ornaments on the window sills. He lent on his walking stick, catching his breath and wondering if he had imagined it.
Lately, smells, sounds and ghosts from his past had been appearing without reason. His dreams too had been inflicted by memories he either had forgotten or really wished he had forgotten. So, far nothing had worked to lay his past back where it belonged.
Listening longer, Alfred decided that the music was real and someone, somewhere close by was playing a piano. The notes made up a merry tune, though it wasn’t one he knew. Studying the houses again, he realised he was close to the new building estate at the end of the next street from his home. Lots of new people had recently moved in and he betted that it was one of them the music was coming from. He saw no windows open or doors, so the sound must be drifting.
Getting back to walking, he recalled the piano lessons he had at school as a boy. He had not taken to it or any other instrument; instead he had enjoyed sport and other physical activities. Thinking those thoughts led to sadder thoughts. Bring himself back, he followed the path that would led him to a short cut across the fields to the shops. The music followed him as if trying to pull him back, but a few steps later it faded and he could no longer hear it.
The Story Files 