Photo courtesy of Jan W. Fields
It’s been five days since I buried you. A thin film of dust covers the piano I’ve inherited with your estate. Moonlight Sonata slices through my mind.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
I smash the axe down. Wood splinters and keys squeal. Still, I hear music.
The tyres of the Jag screech as I speed from the mansion. Away from your memory. But I still hear you playing.
Please stop. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
My foot squeezes the accelerator as I approach the cliff, and I’m flying, falling, screaming.
But still the music plays.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Pop over to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries here.