Of course we all know pianos simply do notspeak but one winter's evening I found myself in the parlor of an old home on a small patch of land in the foothill basin region of Placer County, California viewing an upright piano of just inquiry.
I was speaking to a rather tall gentleman of the specific antique characteristics of the aforementioned piano when he asked if I had heard "that?".
"'That?'" Said I. "Why yes. It, at times, does make 'noises.' Would you..."
But at this moment - as we were walking out of the parlor and out of earshot from said piano - we heard A faint rendition of Dixie being played on the higher octave region of the piano forte! We rushed to the keys but were all to late ... the ivories stopped. A voice, low and mild, strained "believe me."
I, startled and most frightened, back into the gentleman to my rear, my head striking his chest with force.
"My god." Says I.
Again: "Believe me."
The piano became audible yet again showcasing an unidentified jazz tune in 1920's style....the melody floating through the upper air of the room in mystery and familiar discomfort.
... The home calls to me in the night every so offten.
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