It seemed an age since music had last filled Abigail’s home. The piano remained covered: its melodies smothered by leather; its keyboard untouched. But it hadn’t always been so.
Once, joyous refrains had resonated throughout the building. Music had been her life. Her passion. And Robert’s, too. Their skillful playing had filled concert halls around the globe. Their life together had been a blissful perfection made only sweeter by news that she was pregnant.
Until tragedy struck.
As she’d knelt at Robert’s graveside, the music in her soul had faded into silence. She’d withdrawn from public performance, devoting herself to the raising of her newborn daughter. It was seven years, now, since she’d last played.
Which was why it was so unusual to hear music drifting up the stairway.
“What do you think, Mummy?” Lucy called, her fingers dancing over the keys. “Miss Elliot say’s I’m a natural!” The joy in her daughter’s expression stirred something vital within Abigail, drawing her towards the piano.
Maybe the music in her soul wasn’t completely silenced, after all…
Word Count: 175
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This post is for Priceless Joy’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This week’s prompt was provided by Mike Vore. Thank you Mike!
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Trust your own instinct. Your mistakes might as well be your own, instead of someone else’s. Billy Wilder