Floor bords creak and groan as you enter. You are I awe as you take in your surroundings. The centerpiece of the room is the staircase, which towers over the hall. Faint crackling of a fireplace echoes throughout the room, its glow welcoming, and its presence, a warning. You feel someone, something creep up behind you, breathing down your neck, but when you turn around, you only see the piano, standing lonely in the darkness. Its only companion, a weathered leather stool, standing silent and still.

You walk home. All you needed was somewhere to stay for the night. It was a business trip. Come to think of it, it was an enormous building, from the outside at least, and yet, all you got was the key to the front door. No map. And no keys to any other doors either. Just the sofa, the fireplace, the rug..........           And the piano. You go to sleep. It was nice to be back home. You felt uncomfortable. You were home. You are safe. But the same presence you felt at the house still loomed over your shoulder, accompanied by the faint tapping of a piano key. One high note. One door key.  One larger room. One. Week. Left.

Over the next week you still felt unsettled. By the sixth day, the rush of adrenaline over came you. One word in your head. Run. You made it home. You are safe. You were safe. You were safer. Safer at the house. The tapping. You tried to ignore it. It had gotten louder. One high note. One strange feeling. One crude stool. One. Day. Left.

You try to rack your brain for answers. The tapping. It was unbearable. You try to sleep. The stool stood guard. Guard of you. You wake up. The stool. The stool was the answer. You need the stool. You open your door, ready to fix this, but to your horror you find the stool, broken in two. And at the end of the hall, the piano stood starting you down. You run to the elevator. Your escape. The piano had grown closer. Breathing down your neck. One high note. One crude stool. One grand piano. One. Second. Left.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING SWEETIES!!!!!!