in a dark wood there is an empty house. it was abandoned long ago.
there is a piano in a dark room it is missing a few keys & has not been played in such a long time but it is mostly in tune.
the piano misses being played the last time somebody played it was when some teenagers broke in but they could not play very well. they also broke a vase and a window.
being in the middle of nowhere, the piano sometimes plays itself, much as a person alone by themself for a long time will start to sing whatever comes to mind.
the wind is delighted to hear music after so long & carries the melody out of the window with it's shutters stretched wide open & the curtains slow dancing, & out into the woods.
the woods is jealous of the music & swallows it up into the darkness & endless tangle of pine needles. the piano does not notice & plays it's music for it's lonesome audience of empty rooms until the keys wear through & the strings rust & the pedals stick & the plants and moss grow their roots upon it & bind it into silence forever.
