Original Gothic Lit Story

Dana Kornmeier

Mr. Provenzano

Honors American Lit – 1^st Hour

25 March 2011

The Child’s Last Song

Ever since the elite suburban town of Highland Ridge had been carefully planned out in the early 1900s, large mansions sprang up, landscape was carefully crafted, and safety had never been issue. Grasses were always richly green, the sky almost always seemed to be a bright blue, and everyone happily went along with their lives. 

The death of Mrs. Gertrude Mabley never surprised the town. One of the few widows of the time, she often kept to herself and stayed in her house the entire day. Her once luxurious mansion always full with guests was slowly deteriorating; the grass fading to a dry yellow hue, the windows accumulating a large number of cobwebs, and the paint slowly cracking off. Many of the friendly people of the town offered to help her, yet every time they visited she seemed to be more and more hostile and ungrateful. Rumors spread, saying she was going mentally insane and needed to be taken away. After a few weeks, she was found dead in her bedroom. 

Since Mabley was the last living member of her family and no will seemed present, the house went up as an estate sale with all of its possessions. A family of four new to the town, unaware of Mabley's story, offered the highest price and vowed to bring the mansion back to its prime condition. Within a month, the family was moved in.

Almost all of the possessions of the house were cleared out within the first few months of the family's arrival. Slowly but surely, the old, antique furniture and decor was being replaced with new, modern furnishings. The landscaping improved, the foundation and exterior of the house was fixed, and the family seemed to settle in at a rapid rate. The only part of the house that seemed unchanged was the dark basement.

That night, Tommy, the oldest child at age 10, woke up in the middle of the night. He had no recollection as to why he did, but he lay back down and went to sleep. This happened another three times, and he finally understood what kept waking him up. He could hear a faint sound of music playing, yet he had no idea what it was or where it was coming from.

Probably just Casey's music to put her to sleep or something. I'm used to that, she is my sister. Whatever, thought Tommy. 

Tommy, although somewhat confused, went back to sleep. He heard it the next few nights once again, but disregarded it and went back to sleep each time. 

One day, the moving company came to pick up the last of Mrs. Mabley's items. They went through the house, and when nothing else was to be found, they went on their way. After the moving people left, the family moved in some more of their furniture, bringing the rest of their unorganized items down to the basement. The basement was damp and midnight black; it took the family time to find the light switch. Once they found the light and the basement dimly lit up, they discovered a small piano in the far corner.

"Woah, what's that?" exclaimed Tommy.

"It seems like it’s the woman who lived here before's," said the mother.

"What should we do with it?" replied Tommy. "Those moving people already left."

"Well, since it technically is ours from the sale, and since we've been wishing for a piano for our house for a while, why don't we keep it?" suggested the father.

"Hmm...I'm not sure. We'll have to think about it. But, for now, let's bring it upstairs." replied the mother.

The family cleaned all of the dust, dirt, and accumulated spider webs off of the piano and moved it up to their living room. Tommy, who had been taking piano lessons since he was five, wanted to play one of his newly learned songs. He started playing the tune, but to his and his family's amazement, the piano was much different than expected.

Every time he started pressing the keys, the piano would play the same group of notes. If he started playing one song, the piano would play different notes, resulting in the projection of a depressing love song every time. No matter what he or anyone else in the family pressed, the tune always ended up being the same somber song. 

That night, Tommy woke up to the same depressing tune. More loud and clear than ever before, he realized the music that woke him up almost every night was the same song being played. He rushed into his parent's bedroom.

"Mom! Mom! Dad! Dad! Do you hear that? It's the same song from the piano!"

"Wha--what, Tommy?" replied the dad, rubbing his eyes and gradually sitting up.

"Do you NOT hear that noise? That SAME song that was playing on the piano today is playing, right now!"

"Tommy..." replied a half asleep mother. “There's nothing playing. You probably just had a bad dream. Go back to bed."

But Tommy knew, without a doubt, that the piano was playing. He softly tiptoed down the stairs and made his way into the living room. There, in front of his eyes, was the piano, playing itself. No one was around to play the tune. The keys were sharply being pressed down, in the same pattern, over and over again. 

Tommy, frightened at the sight of the piano, sprinted upstairs and buried himself under his bed covers. He squeezed his eyes shut as much as he could, curled himself into a ball, and forced himself to fall asleep. 

The next morning, Tommy was convinced he needed to show his parents what was happening with the piano. He had to, in some way, show what was keeping him up countless nights on end. Around 7 AM, he tiptoed down the stairs, made his way into the living room, and carefully examined the piano. Observing every inch, Tommy carefully looked at the old wood finish, the alternating black and white keys, and the faint brown and beige hues engrained within its exterior. With no support for his story besides hearing the song, he felt as if his case was hopeless.

If only there was something, just something, to show what this piano has been doing, thought Tommy.

He resorted to the interior of the piano. To his amazement, he found mounds of crumpled up paper everywhere. There must have been at least one hundred of them. All stuffed into the main interior compartment of the piano.

“I will haunt you until you come with me.”

“I lost mine, so he’s mine now.”

“He was just about your age when he died.”

“You’re just the replacement.”

Every single note had the same type of phrases. Ones speaking of death, family, someone’s son, and threats to take somebody away for good. Immediately, the piano starts playing itself, in an especially loud and harsh manner. Tommy knew that something was extremely wrong with this situation, and that his parents needed to believe him. He raced back upstairs and shook his parents awake.

“MOM, DAD! CAN YOU NOT HEAR THE PIANO? IT’S PLAYING ITSELF, SO LOUD, RIGHT NOW!” Tommy screamed.

“Tommy, this is enough. The only sound that is being made right now is you screaming at the top of your lungs. What’s wrong?” his father replied.

“Honey, you need to stop this. There is nothing going on with that piano,” said his mother.

“I don’t even know what to say right now. The piano plays by itself every night, I hear it, it wakes me up and is unbearable. See, look at this! Look at what I found INSIDE the piano!” said Tommy, throwing a pile of the crumpled notes in front of them.

His parents scan each one of the notes carefully; unwrapping each one, looking on both sides, and then folding them up.

“Tommy, now I am really confused. There is nothing written on any of these slips of paper. Look, they are all blank.”

And to his amazement, each one of the crumpled pieces of paper that before held each threat was blank. Solid white. It was as if someone replaced the paper, or someone erased all of the messages somehow. Tommy knew in his mind despite the recent events, no one was going to believe him.

Later that week in school, Tommy’s parents forced him to go talk to the school psychologist. They had high expectations that some sort of counseling would help calm the present issue. Tommy, nervous but determined to put this psychologist on his side, walked into the office.

“Hello?” whispered Tommy.

A young woman turned around in her swivel chair to face Tommy and greeted him with a smile.

“Hello, Tommy. I’ve been expecting you. My name’s Mrs. Bourke,” replied the woman. “Your parents told me what has been going on at home. Would you like to talk about it?”

“Yeah, sure. Nobody around here believes me. This piano that belonged to the woman who lived in our house before us plays by itself every single night. I hear it, I know for a fact I’m not dreaming. And inside the piano, well, that’s a whole other story. I found hundreds of crumpled up pieces of paper, all with threats to take me away and talking about some boy who died.”

“Oh, Tommy, wow. That is quite the situation. And you know for sure this is a real occurrence?”

“Yes, I’m positive. I’ve never been more positive about anything in my life.”

“I’m here for you no matter what your parents say. I’ll give them a call. It seems like this is some type of supernatural situation, that can’t be handled by me.”

Mrs. Bourke called Tommy’s parents later that afternoon, explaining in full detail what Tommy told them. She then further said how there is not much explanation to this type of situation. As a last resort, she advised to call the paranormal hotline. Established around fifty years ago, the service has dealt with some of the people that believe that spirits haunt their mansions.

“We don’t believe in that type of stuff. Tommy’s just going through some type of strange phase. Little kids believe whatever they want these days,” said the mother to the father.

“Yes, I understand. Don’t you think we should give him a chance at what he’s trying to explain though?” replied the father.

“He’s explained everything there is. The piano plays itself. The messages found inside it. There’s nothing else to it,” said the mother.

The next months passed slowly but surely. Tommy slept with his parents every night, feeling isolated, feeling that no one was on his side. Each night he awoke cringing, hearing the piano playing extremely loud. He would cover his ears and start screaming in the pitch black bedroom. Every time his parents would calm him, reassure them that nothing was happening, and force him back to sleep. Tommy was going insane with nobody believing him.

Later on, the piano went several nights in a row without making a noise. You could hear a pin drop the house was so quiet at nighttime. Tommy eventually made his way back into his bedroom, sleeping yet sleeping uncomfortably. Nightmares of the playing piano always found a way into his sleeping routine.

One night, the weather was particularly grotesque. Clouds formed a heavy blanket over the town, blocking the moon from shining in the twilight. The wind whistled particularly loud, sweeping in and out through the dark suburban streets. Most notably, the town fell silent at an early hour of the night, almost all of the prim and proper mansions completely dark.

Tommy fell asleep at an early hour, along with everyone else in the family. He fell asleep easier than he ever had in the past months, comfortably dozing off as the wind whistled through the trees. He felt safe, secure, and most notably at home for the first time.

Almost like clockwork, the piano began playing itself. This time, it started at an extremely soft tone, then gradually and gradually made itself louder. The tune increased in sound so much one could have felt like the whole town heard it. Tommy, startled, shot up out of his bed and gripped onto his covers as tight as he could.

The piano kept increasing. It eventually got to the point of ear-bleeding, screeching, unbearable sound. The wind furiously whooshed through the town, almost complimenting the piano tune. Tommy screamed in horror right as his bedroom door swung open with a great amount of air. You are finally mine, came a sound. The air swept him off his feet, and by now, he was kicking and screaming and yelling for his parents.

“MOM, DAD, SAVE ME!!”

But it was too late. The rush of air swept him downstairs, towards the living room and out of sight. By the time his parents got downstairs, he was nowhere to be found. They called the police, a search team, and even the paranormal specialists.

The police and search team were unable to find any trace of Tommy whatsoever. They examined every inch of the house; he was completely gone. The paranormal specialists set up all of their equipment and used all of their techniques. No surprise, they found a high level of activity around the piano and in the basement.

The family, as soon as they could, moved out of the house and to the neighboring city. They had the piano taken away and donated. And, to their sadness and confusion, went along with their lives without Tommy. They read about the woman who lived in the house before them; learning her son was kidnapped and killed at age 10.

To this day, the situation that arose at Gertrude Mabley’s mansion is an unsolvable mystery. Everyone has their views and opinions, and no investigative team can come to a conclusion. Most importantly, the piano ended up in a dump extending miles and miles in every direction. Each night, it plays itself a tune, yet this time a joyful and reassuring song, with no one to ever hear.