Lystra's Song Read online

  Lystra's Song

  Viola Tempest

  Published by Independently Published, 2022.

  Lystra’s Song

  VIOLA TEMPEST

  Lystra’s Song

  © Copyright 2022 Viola Tempest

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.

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  Cover Design by Paracoze Designs

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Chapter

  One

  “Get out, get out!”

  Colton simply stood there, flabbergasted. His girlfriend of four years had just cheated on him, and yet, now she was the one upset, grabbing clothes from the drawers and throwing them across the room. Half of the stuff wasn’t even his.

  A heaping pile had collected in his arms when he said, “how could you do this, Anita?”

  She turned, face flushed with red as anger burned through her entire body. “You’re useless. All you do is go to that boring job you have, go home, watch television, and go to bed. You have,” she counted on her fingers, “zero hobbies. You never spend time with me. We only go out once or twice a month. “ Her chest heaved when she was done, and she raised her palms to the ceiling in a dramatic shrug. “I don’t know what you expected!”

  “So, you cheated on me because I’m boring?” His tone wasn’t angry, but rather hurt and frustrated. He was beyond the stage of anger. That had come when he decided to surprise his girlfriend by bringing her flowers after work and found another man in her bed. It had escalated when she didn’t even deny it, telling him she hadn’t been trying to hide it. Now he was simply defeated. “Did our relationship mean nothing to you?”

  “I cheated on you.” She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes to compose herself. She wanted it to be over, but she didn’t want to turn the conversation into something it didn’t have to be. “I cheated on you because I need something different, Colton. I need someone who will actually pay attention.”

  “I see,” he said, shifting his weight to grab a pair of his pants up off the floor.

  “Even now!” she screamed, temper rising once again. “You’re simply admitting defeat. You’re so useless that you don’t even fight for your own girlfriend!”

  Colton didn’t say anything. The thing was, he was too stunned to speak. He wanted to beg, wanted to plead with her to stay. He wanted to tell her to get rid of the other man and stay with him because he’d change for her. In his mind, he loved her completely and honestly. But he couldn’t bring his mouth to move and form the words.

  “Get out of my house,” she hissed, throwing a pair of his shoes atop the pile in his arms.

  He turned and left the bedroom. He thought that maybe he would come back later when she’d calmed down and become more rational. When she realized that she needed him and his secure office job to continue paying off her mortgage.

  A young, blonde-haired man sat in the living room without his shirt, one leg crossed over the other. “Bad luck, man,” he said, reaching his hand into a bag of Colton’s chips, pulling one out and popping it into his mouth. “She’s quite the catch. You guys done?”

  “Yeah,” Colton said absentmindedly. He was still focused on the fact that this man was sitting on the couch that he had purchased, that he had sat on so many times. Anita had chosen this man over him, and that fact stung.

  “Look, I didn’t know she had a man. I mean, I knew since your clothes are here, but we’re just casual. Thought you knew.”

  Colton stared at this man, not taking in much of what he said, and left without another word. His car was still in the driveway, so he threw everything into the back seat and climbed into the front. He sat there for a while, gripping the steering wheel and resting his forehead against his knuckles. No tears slipped from his eyes yet, but they threatened to with every exhale.

  He continued to sit there until Anita came running out of the house. She burst through the front door, screaming incoherently and shooing him with her hands until he turned on the car and backed it out of the driveway.

  Colton drove for a while, no aim or direction in his mind. He simply drove, turning when the road ended or when he felt the urge to. He wasn’t even sure where he was anymore. The roads and buildings had started to become unfamiliar long ago.

  He wouldn’t have stopped driving at all if it weren’t for the fact that his gas gauge was soon down to nearly zero.

  He pulled into a gas station, still on the edge of breaking. Barely registering anything around him, he felt numb. While he pumped the gas, he couldn’t hear the traffic or the people or the person a lane over asking him what to do if the button won’t work. In fact, he didn’t notice anything at all until he went inside, paid, and was on his way back out to his car.

  There was an antique store across the street, one he hadn’t noticed while pulling into the station. He felt drawn to go inside and look around. Perhaps he’d find something old to spend his money on that he could destroy and feel good about himself again. He’d never had destructive tendencies before, but something about how he felt was drawing him toward that outlet.

  Colton got back into his car, but only for a moment until he crossed the empty street and made his way into the plaza’s parking lot. He knew his small red Toyota wouldn’t be able to handle a table or anything large, but perhaps a vase, a chair, or even a very large picture frame. His palms became sweaty. He’d never been so impulsive before, and it felt good to walk into a store with no idea what he would come out with. Was this what Anita meant when she’d told him she needed something different?

  He could be different. He would be different, for her.

  He entered the store, the bell ringing loudly overhead. Inside, furniture lined the walls. Aisles were created out of chairs, tables, and other pieces of furniture that looked decades or centuries old. There were some bare spots — though not many — that indicated where a piece had been recently moved or bought.

  “Can I help you with anything?” A man’s voice asked, clear as the bell from before. He wore a blue plaid shirt and jeans, his long white beard coming down just past his collarbone. His eyes were wide and kind, staring at Colton with a wide, toothy smile.

  “Uh, no. Just browsing,” Colton replied, hardly recognizing the scratchy, near-incoherent voice that came out. The old man seemed to have understood, because he nodded and returned to reading the newspaper before him.

  Colton wandered around for a while, but nothing immediately caught his eye. He saw the sentimental value in everything. He couldn’t break hundred-year-old China that had been hand-crafted. He couldn’t stand the thought of even touching the wooden children’s toys.

  He was about to give up and go home, thinking he might stop at a thrift store instead. But then, his eyes caught something. Something beautiful that he could never think to destroy. Something to give him purpose. A piano. A hobby.

  He walked over to the large, solid black grand piano. It looked — unlike t
he rest of the store — like nobody had bothered to dust it in months. Cobwebs hung off it in thick strings. He touched his finger to one of the notes, and it rang out in tune.

  “The old owners took great care of it. Never played it, though.” Colton jumped. He hadn’t heard the owner walk up behind him.

  His heart beating out of his chest, he managed to ask, “how come?”

  “Lady said it was haunted. Honestly? I believe her.” The man went to reach out a finger to touch the wood, but thought better of it and retracted his hand. “I can hear it playing sometimes when the store is empty.”

  “Maybe it’s not empty, then?” He never was a skeptic, and Colton knew when, sometimes, the most obvious answer was the right one. “Kids have their own version of fun.”

  “Look,” the store owner said, backing up a few too-casual steps. “Take it if you want. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “How much?” Colton asked without hesitation. If this shop owner was so ready to be rid of it, perhaps he could get a pretty good deal.

  “You got a truck?” he asked, shoving wrinkled hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  Colton shook his head. “Just my hatchback.”

  “I’ll charge you for delivery only. My son can be here in fifteen minutes, tops. He’ll load it into his pickup and follow behind to your house. Fair?”

  Colton nodded, and the man stated his price. It was laughably cheap, not nearly enough what it was worth. The piano had to be a hundred and fifty years old just by looking at the structure of it. If he had been in his right state of mind, he might have been thrown off by the ridiculous price the owner had set. He might have thought twice before purchasing something thought to be haunted.

  After paying at the counter, Colton waited patiently for the owner’s son to arrive. Internally, the store owner was celebrating the sale of this piano after three years of it sitting in his store, collecting dust. If he had known it would cause this much trouble, he wouldn’t have bothered purchasing it from that panicked lady in the first place.

  Colton walked over to the piano and sat at the bench that came with the piece. He ran his hands along the keys, taking a deep breath into his lungs. He touched the same key as before, and then hit another, lower note. His fingers splayed over the keys, waiting for his instruction.

  “You play?” A younger male voice asked.

  Colton turned around to see who he assumed to be the owner’s son, standing there with one of his friends right next to him.

  “Oh, not really,” Colton said, standing up and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. “I played a bit as a kid, but nothing really stuck.”

  “Well, good luck,” the kid said, and he and his friend stepped forward to pick up the piano. “I’ve heard it playing at night. It’s something freaky; I’ll tell you that much.”

  The two of them managed to maneuver the piano onto the back of the pickup with little difficulty. Colton felt once again useless as he stood there, watching but of no help at all. Anita’s hateful words flooded back to him, but he shook them from his head. He would show her that he had talent, that he wasn’t useless in the slightest. Who knew if he had some sort of hidden aptitude for it now that he was older, mature, and disciplined?

  Colton led the men to his house, where he was determined to figure out a way to get his Anita back.

  Chapter

  Two

  As much as he had previously been excited about his new piano-playing prospect, Colton hadn’t touched the keys once since the antique shop owner’s son dropped it off, set everything up, and left. Perhaps the instrument would just be a decoration. He could call Anita over and tell her that he was trying, or even fake the talent altogether.

  He sat at the dining table all by himself — not having bothered to turn on any lights — sipping on the melatonin tea Anita had once gotten him as a gift. He didn’t like the taste, but it made him fall asleep, and he was sure he’d need the help tonight. It was nearly midnight, and he still felt wide awake.

  The total darkness was only ever momentarily disturbed by flashes of lightning. This was closely followed by loud crashes of thunder that rattled the frames on his walls. It didn’t faze him; in fact, he felt numb to it all. It wasn’t worth the effort to try to be amazed, scared, or even interested in the weather outside.

  His mind was so, so tired, and yet his eyes refused to close, even with the help of the tea. He took another sip, attempting to will his body into compliance. A picture frame across the room caught his attention, and he set the mug down on the table with a bit more force than he’d intended to. He stood and stalked over to the wall, glancing at the photo with a newfound rage.

  The image captured a moment from one of his and Anita’s first dates. They’d gone to the beach for a stroll and a picnic, and the memory of the day was one he’d cherish forever. In the photo, the ocean was illuminated in orange from the setting sun behind them. She was holding onto him from behind, her arms around his neck, and legs around his waist. She was planting a kiss on his cheek, and his smile was broader than it ever had been before. He wasn’t even sure he’d smiled like that since.

  He grabbed the frame off the wall and threw it. It shattered against the wall, and glass spewed in every direction. His chest heaved, teeth grinding so hard that he thought they might file down to nothing.

  When the hairs on his neck stood on end, his anger dissolved nearly immediately. He didn’t feel alone all of a sudden. But when he spun around, looking for someone, there was nobody there. The feeling vanished entirely.

  Colton shivered. Perhaps he was tired, after all. He picked up the half-empty mug and tossed it into the sink haphazardly. He didn’t bother rinsing it out or throwing it into the dishwasher, something he knew he would regret the next morning.

  He trudged his way up the stairs, and when he made it to his bedroom, he didn’t even bother stripping himself from his clothes before pulling down the covers and slipping under them. His room was bland, he knew, and Anita had always complained about the lack of decoration. Perhaps, she’d had a point in saying that he was useless and boring.

  Colton twisted around, facing the spot where Anita used to lie. He reached out a hand, his fingers reaching for the cold space. If he squinted just enough, he could almost see her sleeping figure next to him. He could almost pretend that everything was okay, and he wasn’t utterly and completely alone.

  A sweet melody filled the air, the crescendo of music reaching higher and higher. A woman’s hands flew over the keys with perfect grace, not missing a single note. Her hands moved faster and faster until they were nothing but flesh-toned blurs.

  Just as the notes hit their peak, the woman’s fingers slipped, and it made a horrible, crashing noise. She cringed and smiled up at the man, who was standing on the other side of the grand, wooden piano. They both wore nineteenth-century clothing and seemed perfectly content in them.

  “Sorry dear,” the woman said. “I just can’t get that last part right.”

  The man smiled. He always smiled. “No worries. You’ll get it one day.”

  “Promise?” the woman asked. They’d had this conversation many times now, and it always went the same.

  The man walked around and kissed the woman on the top of her head. “I promise,” he said. He looked up at the sheet before her. “Perhaps if you take out a few notes—”

  “No,” the woman said, grabbing the sheets of music and folding them down. “I won’t hear it. It’s my song, and that’s how I want it to be played.”

  As if he’d expected that answer, the man said, “of course, darling.”

  Everything went dark. The terrible sound of something snapping, and a high-pitched woman’s screams, filled the air. Pain, horrible pain. Endless suffering followed, along with sorrow that could never be healed.

  Loss. That’s what that feeling was: loss.

  Flashes of agony, and then nothing. But nothing was just as unsettling as feeling everything at once. Floating with no groun
d… no body, no soul, no Earth, no anything at all.

  No, no, no, no.

  And then, there was a thread. A singular thread of pain that could be grasped and held onto. Everything came back, just as powerful and painful as before. But this time, that something was a breath of fresh air. More than anything, there was opportunity.

  Even if the walls felt like they were caving in.

  A grave was next. Half-buried in snow and aged with time. The name was no longer comprehensible. No flowers had adorned this grave for years, as it was long forgotten within a sea of others. Somewhere else, a woman sobbed. But not here, not under this large, dying tree in the back of a place nobody would remember.

  A crow cawed, landing atop the gravestone and pecking at the moss that had accumulated in the cracks. It would make a fine nest for something new.

  Music again. This time, there was nothing but the darkness consuming all and everything. It sounded as if there were three pianists all playing slightly different harmonies, but it was just simply the one. Ten fingers, two hands, and one woman.

  No lyrics, as lyrics were not needed to convey the emotion of the piece. Simply the emotions of one woman, keeping herself tethered to this Earth through the music her fingers remembered how to play.

  Always the same woman. Always the same song. Never the same audience.

  Colton’s eyes flew open as a crash of thunder filled the room. He sat up in his bed and rubbed his face. What an odd, senseless dream. A cold sweat clung to his body, dampening his clothes in uncomfortable areas.