A family heirloom

The piano stood there and was annoying. It was old, black, and out of tune. A real mess. The second generation of our family had stopped playing it, but it was a family heirloom, and no one dared get rid of it. My grandfather, who had acquired the instrument in his youth, had a natural and unappreciated talent. Unfortunately, the talent didn't pass down to subsequent generations.

So the piano sat in the corner of our living room. The mare-like object was in the way and an eyesore. As a result, recently, inexplicably, the topic of getting rid of the piano had been discussed in the house in whispers. We considered selling it, throwing it away, or donating it to an institution. But putting words into action wasn't so easy, and we still owned the piano. The

three of us had lived together since my father moved out: my mother, my sister, and I. And honestly, we were very happy; my mother had no intention of changing the situation, and neither did we. Maybe if a man lived with us, he would have made the decision and gotten rid of the junk, but we were three weak women, dominated by a troublesome family heirloom.

Nothing seemed to suggest things would change until one evening, when the piano began to intrigue us.

There was no one at home; my mother and my younger sister were socializing and spending time with their family, which I missed out on due to extracurricular activities, namely English lessons. I knew I'd be home a few hours before them. I didn't hesitate to take advantage of this freedom and, after the course, I arranged to meet my boyfriend, Paweł. We were seventeen, and we both felt we deserved some privacy; we simply couldn't pass up this opportunity.

I didn't turn on the lights; the apartment was dimly lit, and I put on some atmospheric music. Things started to feel pleasant when we heard a few unfamiliar sounds.

"Wait! What was that?" I pulled out of Paweł's embrace.

"Oh, you thought I loved you, you know?" Paweł didn't feel like interrupting. But the sounds repeated themselves again.

"I know, but wait!" I got up from the couch and went to turn down the music. I listened, but there was silence.

"Sylwia, what are you waiting for, until your mom gets back? Come on..." Paweł's hormones were working, but I was already a bit distracted. Paweł came over and hugged me.

We were still in the living room, but the music drowned out the sounds coming from... the piano. In the silence, I heard them clearly. A chill ran down my spine; the piano lid was closed, so how could it be playing?!

"Turn on the light!" I commanded Paweł, but he must not have heard me, because he continued to stare at the instrument with terrified eyes.

"Come on... move and turn on the light!" I nudged him. "

Why was that playing?" he asked, pointing at the piano. The question suggested a slight softening of the brain, which I attributed to fear.

"How should I know!" I said, outraged. "You're the man, after all, lift the lid and see!"

"But it's your house and your piano," Paweł retorted, not without reason. We could have argued further, but the matter was resolved by the ringing phone. I picked up the receiver.

"I'm listening," I said.

"It's good that you're here." I heard my mother's voice. "Take a taxi and come here to Dorota, just hurry."

"Oh, I'll be there soon!" I accepted my mother's offer with relief. I liked Aunt Dorota, and at that moment I preferred to leave the house. Paweł shared my enthusiasm; it seemed she wouldn't be visiting me anytime soon.

A week had passed since the incident, and I hadn't told my family, but I avoided the piano with distrust and preferred not to be alone with it. Especially in the evening. My sister had made that mistake. It was just the two of us in the house. I was in my room, cramming history, and Justyna was in the living room, putting together a puzzle on the floor. The silence lasted almost three hours. I wasn't surprised. The puzzle had 2,000 pieces.

"Sylwia... Sylwia!" I suddenly heard Justyna calling out.

"Well... what do you want?" I tore my thoughts away from my book, though not the one I should have been reading, because Anne Rice's "Queen of the Damned" had beaten the history textbook.

"Come in for a moment! "

I dragged myself off the couch and went to the living room.

"What?" I asked at the door. In response, Justyna pointed to the piano and looked at me with a frightened look.

"It... played... by itself..." she stammered.

My mouth went cold and dry.

"Oh, Mom! Again," I blurted out involuntarily.

"What do you mean again?" Justyna's fear was joined by surprise.

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to tell you, damn it!" I got angry; I was five years older than Justyna and should have downplayed the whole affair.

"That's just how I've been before... you know." Justyna didn't let it go. "

Oh my! Okay, I'll tell you." I knew Justyna wouldn't let it go, so I preferred to let her in on the secret—you know, when you went to Dorota's with your mom and I arrived after English."

"I know, last week." Justyna nodded. "

I had an appointment with Paweł, and we came here...

" "Wait, I'll tell your mom!" Justyna's face twisted into a malicious smile

. "Come on, we didn't do anything like that, there was no occasion, the piano wouldn't let us, it started playing, Paweł ran home, and I went to Dorota's, there's nothing to talk about." I waved my hand, feigning disregard for the matter, but to no avail.

The piano made itself felt again. The fun had stopped, the moment was becoming eerie. It was already dark outside. We sat and waited to see what would happen. But apart from the tinkling of the piano, nothing happened, no explosion, no ghost appeared.

The haunted house atmosphere was shattered by Mom's return. We remained silent in solidarity about the piano's antics, which ceased as soon as Mom walked in the door.

Unfortunately, it couldn't be hidden forever, and one evening, Mom was reading a book and overheard what the piano was offering. Through the half-open door of my room, I could hear what was happening in the living room. The piano was becoming more brazen. The keyboard strokes were more numerous and varied.

I entered quietly, because despite the horror of the situation, I couldn't deny myself the pleasure of seeing Mom's expression. It was worth it. Her face was a mixture of terror and surprise. For me, this situation was, one might say, commonplace.

"Don't worry," I said, "it plays so often."

"How often? This piece of junk plays on its own! And you speak so calmly about it! This isn't some haunted house for old instruments to play on their own!" "Something has to be done about it!" My mother had always been an energetic woman and hated it when things got out of control, and that's how she reacted in this situation.

Unfortunately, she lacked courage and preferred to stay away from the instrument. The secret was slowly losing its secret, and more and more extended family and friends, including my own, from school, began to witness the possession of the haunted piano. I feared the latter the most. It's no fun when people point fingers at you and whisper behind your back that you live in a haunted house. My popularity at school might depend on it, and that's a fragile thing. As luck would have it, one day Renata, a journalist from the school newspaper, visited me. She used a CD-ROM with the Polish language coursework, which I owned, as an excuse. The rumors that had been circulating around school for some time must have reached her.

The sight of her at the doorway made my stomach turn. Renata entered the room and looked around.

"Do you have that CD?" she asked, approaching the computer. I nodded.

"How long do you need it for?" I asked.

"No, I'll give it to you at school tomorrow, I'll copy it myself," she said, but her eyes were fixed on the piano; she couldn't hide her curiosity for long.

"Did it really play itself?" she asked. "

It plays, not played; if you sat quietly for a while, you'd hear it," I answered honestly. I knew Renata and knew she'd keep visiting me until she heard the notes played by the piano.

We didn't like each other, so I preferred to avoid further visits and clarify the matter immediately.

Luck was on my side; the piano, as if on cue, played a beautiful improvisation. Pure jazz! I would have been delighted myself; I didn't blame Renata. I wasn't sure if she was more delighted or astonished, but the effect was there. Renata lost control for only a few minutes, then immediately bombarded me with questions. Unfortunately, I didn't know the answers to all of them.

"Do you have any suspicions as to the cause of this phenomenon?" she asked the first question, which immediately put me to shame. Mom and I had discussed the possibility that it might be my grandfather's ghost, angry with us for getting rid of his beloved instrument, but I felt embarrassed to tell Renata. I couldn't think of anything else, though, and omitting facts in front of Renata was risky. Wherever she found a loophole, she'd draw her own conclusions, and she had a vivid imagination. So I could read in the next issue of our newspaper that I lived in a house haunted by entire armies of ghosts and other supernatural, if not diabolical, forces.

After Renata's visit, all I could do was wait for the next issue of the school newspaper, where the main topic would be me and my piano. I'd love to catch some serious, tropical disease that would take a long time to heal, at least three months. Until they forgot about this piano circus. Where could I catch it? I pondered all evening, but came up with nothing. I was left with the hope that perhaps a cataclysm would occur that would solve my problem and prevent embarrassment.

Unfortunately, nothing happened, and the day the "School Weekly

Gossip" newspaper was published arrived. As soon as I entered the school, my friend Jola caught up with me. She was waving the paper. "

Look! You're on the front page! And your picture too!" she shouted from afar.

I felt faint; Renata had taken the subject with a bang. I should have expected it from her, but it still knocked me off my feet. "

Show me," I extended my hand. On the front page, I saw the title, written in red letters, "Haunted House," and underneath, the rest—the article—took up the entire page, and as an extra, there was my photo. It was good, but I looked like a witch at a witches' coven. The perfect resident of a haunted house. I gritted my teeth; Renata must have hunted hard to get a photo like that. A bitch! But I had no choice but to face her opponents and survive in school society. It wouldn't be easy.

Jola and I walked down the hallway, followed by the stares and whispers of the students. I wanted to strangle Renata. Paweł had been avoiding me anyway because of the piano; after this article, he wouldn't want to know me. Hello, loneliness! Maybe in a few months, they'll forget. It hadn't occurred to me that the piano scandal could have any positive consequences. How wrong I was!

I stood alone in front of the classroom, not wanting to talk to anyone. I was plotting revenge on Renata. When someone approached me, I pretended I didn't care.

"Excuse me, but is this about you? In this Renata rag?" someone persisted and asked.

"About me!" I snapped at the intruder.

"That's not the point, but I'm interested in this kind of thing and I have some friends who are into parapsychology; they might be able to help." The intruder wasn't put off by my arrogance. I looked at him with interest, because this person was clearly not in their right mind.

Next to me stood Artur, the object of most girls' affections at school, unfortunately considered exceptionally unavailable. He changed girls after three dates. I liked him too, but his mannerisms turned me off; I made it a point of honor not to add me to his list. He stared at me seriously with his bright green eyes, which no girl could resist.

"Have you figured out a way to approach me?" I asked ironically

. "Come on!" He snorted. "I'm completely serious. I know a few people in this field, my mom's an astrologer; I don't brag about it because why bother, but that piano of yours is quite interesting. I could drop by your place myself, and if I saw it with my own eyes, I could set you up with someone suitable."

"Okay!" "I'm sorry," I replied teasingly, curious to see what would come of it.

For the next week, thanks to Renata, Artur wouldn't leave my side at school, not even for a moment. Thanks to that, I became one of the most popular girls in school. I felt great about it. However, I kept looking for an excuse to avoid Artur's visit. It was in vain.

Sunday arrived, and I was spending it reading a biography of Picasso. My mother interrupted me.

"You have a visitor," she said, winking at me. Artur stood behind her. I groaned inwardly; that was all I needed. I knew the piano was just an excuse, but I played dumb.

"Did you see that scab?" I asked. "

Are you talking about the piano? Yes, I did, but can I take a closer look?" he asked. "

More closely?" I was surprised.

"Well, are there any holes, broken strings, or anything like that?"

I looked at Artur, but he didn't seem crazy.

"What do you know about pianos?!" "I know

enough to open it and look inside." Arthur wasn't in the mood to tease me. I had no choice but to give in, otherwise he might get offended, and honestly, I was flattered by his attention, and... I simply liked him.

"Come on." I got out of bed and we went to the living room, where Mom was watching TV.

"Mom, Arthur insisted on seeing this thing, well... open it and look inside," I said to Mom in one breath. She looked at me in surprise, then at Artur.

"You're welcome!" She agreed without asking questions, but she was curious to see what would come of it.

Artur seemed to know his stuff. He opened the top flap, revealing rows of strings covered in a thick layer of dust. He did the same with the flap beneath the keyboard. The piano now stood with its innards exposed, stripped of its dignity, defenseless, at our mercy. For a moment, silence reigned in the room, but then the situation resolved itself. A mouse scurried across the hammers. The piano played a few notes. Immediately afterward, a chord sounded as the first mouse was joined by a second and a third.

"Haunted piano!" Mom burst out laughing first, then continued laughing for a long time until tears streamed down her cheeks. The absurdity of the situation hit me too.

After examining the instrument, it turned out that mice had built a nest in the very bottom corner, chewed their way through the back wall, and taken up residence inside.

"My grandmother had a similar problem, so I immediately thought of those mice," Artur explained, seeing the curious looks from my mother and me.

The mice were removed together. The piano finally fell silent.

"Well, I guess you don't need me anymore," he said, sipping his tea and stuffing himself with sandwiches.

"So what should I pretend I don't know you anymore?" I asked, not liking Artur's words. I enjoyed his company, and I was ashamed of my previous opinion of him. But he'd approached me because of the haunted piano; the matter had been resolved, so now he'd go out with other people again. I was also a little sad, because thanks to this whole affair, I'd gained popularity at school, and now the humdrum of everyday life would return. Too bad.

The days went by again, following their usual pattern, until the end of October, when our school decided to throw a Halloween costume party. A week before the party, no one talked about anything else. The topic was costumes and who would go with whom. I wasn't feeling particularly happy; Paweł had left me, and it looked like I was single. It was a real bummer.

I pretended to be excited about the prom, but I wandered the hallways with my nose in the air. I wondered how to get out of this embarrassing situation. Artur snapped me out of my reverie. He was calling my name from across the hall; it was a miracle I heard him over the din of the break.

I turned and waited until he ran up to me.

"I have a problem! Who are you going to Halloween with?" he asked.

"Well..." I hesitated whether to tell him the truth. "

Actually, I don't know," I finally replied

. "And would my company suit you?" he asked, and I was stunned. I hadn't expected such a turn of events.

"You know... on second thought, absolutely!" I said.

"Well, we're almost set. I'll drop by your place tomorrow and we'll decide on specifics, for now!" he said, and then he was gone.

I spent the rest of the day frantically planning a costume. I was home alone, quietly sewing red pieces of fabric to a black blouse to imitate drops of blood, when I heard the familiar sound again. I strained my ears to see if I'd made a mistake. But no! The piano reminded me of its existence again. I don't know why, but I was happy. When the mouse case was solved, boredom reigned again in the house. And now there was a chance that this slight change would spice things up again, only it wouldn't be a mystery anymore. Probably another mouse had gotten in there. I listened for a moment, because this "music" was different from the previous one. Now the notes formed a melody. And it was a song my grandfather loved. In the next notes, I recognized "When the Brook Flows Slowly." A cold shiver ran down my spine, but I smiled to myself and decided not to tell anyone. Grandpa's old piano and I will once again have our own secret, which maybe this time we can hide from intruders....