C2 Ghost Story runner-up: "The Piano"
Date 10/31/2002 12:00 AM | Topic: Other seagate
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Caitlin sat by the window, wrapped in an afghan, gazing out at the well-manicured lawn that stretched away to the gardens, and beyond, the tangled wood. The moon was full, and it's silver light was so bright, so intense, that it cast shadows into the dark room behind her. It spread a glow across the heavens so that all but the brightest stars were masked, the constellations clearly visible. She sighed. There was so much on her mind that sleep was impossible, and the moonlight streaming through her window had beckoned her to its beauty.
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I have used Ghost 2003 for my backups but always had problems with some of my 8 (!) computers. A few days ago I bought a Maxtor 80 Gb ext USB 1. 2.0 hard drive. After wrestling for hours with downloads from Ghost and installing extra drivers from Ghost I finally got it to work on one computer. (Ghost works ok here most of the time, drive but last week one of my laptops lost the HD and of course the Ghost backup).
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She had come to her great aunt's estate against her better judgement, had attempted to reconcile her differences with her family in order to grieve for her grandmother. All the anger and pain and betrayal had come rushing back, but there was also a pervading sense of sadness that had stemmed the tide and made it possible for Caitlin to interact calmly, though awkwardly, with her relatives. But sleep had refused to claim her, had left her stranded, awake and alone, with her thoughts, questions, worries and grief.
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And then, of course, we have the Standalone Server product, which is called Acronis True Image Server for Windows or Linux and that will manage a single standalone server. What type of computers can we back up, because in a medium to a large sized, even some small sized businesses, who knows what kind of computers they have They may have laptops, they may have desktops, they may just have anything and everything
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Finally, despite the bright moonlight, Caitlin's eyes began to drift shut. She relaxed. Her breathing evened out as her mind became blissfully clear. But before she reached that blessed realm of sleep, something pulled her back to consciousness. Music. It was barely audible, but she could make out the flowing strains of Pachabel's Canon. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep. The grand house was filled with relatives and friends. She hadnÃt seen a piano, but it was fitting for a place such as this to have a music room. Caitlin's fingers stroked the air as they moved over imaginary keys, playing along with the faint music. She smiled. The Canon was one of her favorite pieces. Suddenly she was struck by the urge to play. Rising from her chair, she listened carefully then moved silently from the room, trying to determine where the music was drifting from.
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For several minutes, she quietly wandered the halls, wondering why no one else was awakened by the music. Finally, it grew louder and she stopped by two ornately carved doors, out of which the music drifted. Suddenly, the music stopped. Cautiously, Caitlin turned the handle and silently opened the door. She blinked in surprise as moonlight hit her face. She had opened the doors to a courtyard, open above to the night sky, surrounded by ivy-covered walls and blooming rosebushes. The courtyard was empty, except for a grand piano that sat gleaming on the cobblestones. There was no one else there, and Caitlin glanced around, wondering where the musician had gone... perhaps there was another door? Why was such a beautiful instrument here, exposed to the weather? But she didn't wonder for long, the piano seemed to draw her to it and she held her breath and approached.
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It was old but in wonderful condition, and Caitlin smiled as she placed her fingers on the keys- it was in perfect tune, the notes rich and beautiful. She seated herself at the bench and quietly began to play. The scene was so surreal, she wondered if she hadnÃt fallen asleep after all- the silver moonlight, the sweet smell of roses, the cool ivory keys beneath her fingers. She closed her eyes and continued to play.
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Suddenly she heard a sweet tinkling of notes, an aria of high tones that complemented the sweet low notes she was playing.
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Her eyes flew open. She jumped away from the piano so fast that the bench flew backwards. She stared at the keyboard, at the silent keys, breathing heavily. She blinked. The keys. They had been moving. The notes she had heard had come from this piano- but she hadn't been playing them. Yet she knew she had seen the keys float up and down as if talented pianist had been stroking them. But there was no one else. She sat, frozen, the stillness of the night pressing against her eardrums. Her eyes darted around the courtyard. Nothing. The piano cast a stark shadow on the cobblestones. She stared again at the keyboard. The keys were so white they almost seemed to be emitting their own silver light. She shakily stepped back towards it. Her instincts screamed at her to turn and run, run as fast as she could until she was safely back with other people. But the piano drew her. She placed her fingers back on the keys. They were cold, so cold. She tried to withdraw her hands, but they froze in fear. Her fingers would not draw back. She pulled harder. Her finger tips were freezing cold, something held them to the keys. She started to tremble.
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Then a warmth touched her hands. She stared at them curiously. It almost felt like...
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No!
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Terror rushed through her.
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She tried to scream, to wrench away, but she was frozen in a curious mix of horror and fascination.
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She couldn't see anything - but she could feel another set of human hands atop her own. Then the hands began to move. They guided her fingers- she could lift them away from the keys but as she tried to snatch them away, the invisible hands held them tightly. Caitlin shivered as the warm hands seemed to sink into her own, and she suddenly found them moving lightly over the keys, controlled by the warmth. The notes broke through her terror. Pachabel's Canon. Her hands had never played with this much passion or skill, each note was sweet, the song building in tempo, crescendoing gradually to the climax. Caitlin could feel the keys beneath her fingertips, still icy cold, but her hands moved of their own volition like they were part of the intricate dance between puppeteer and marionette.
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The final chord of the song sounded melancholy in the stillness. Caitlin shivered yet again as the warmth lifted from her fingers, then gasped as she discerned pale white fingers hovering above her own. She felt a presence beside her. Terrified to look but also terrified not to know, Caitlin slowly turned her head.
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She fought back a scream. Beside her sat the vision of a bride, her dress flowing out behind her in a long train, a lacy veil covering her face. But she was so ethereal, so vaporous, that the moonlight shone through her without casting a shadow. The ghost-bride lifted a pale hand towards her veil and slowly lifted it. CaitlinÃs heart beat so fast and hard she felt it would explode out of her chest. She didn't want to see what was under that veil. She wanted to blink, turn away, wake up in bed. But she couldnÃt move. She held her breath as the veil revealed the vague impression of a face, like an undeveloped polaroid of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. But her eyes, her eyes were startlingly clear, blue eyes, bluer than the bluest sky or the deepest water or the rarest sapphire. Caitlin couldn't look away. The woman reached out and touched Caitlin's hand- a touch so cold it was like fire. And her hands again began to play the Canon. The bride dissipated like smoke in the wind, but Caitlin played on, her eyes staring ahead, her hands moving faster and faster, louder and louder, and suddenly a vision appeared like a flash of lighting. A wedding- beautiful, elegant- the guests frozen in horror as the forsaken bride drinks the poisoned wine in despair, to escape the horrors of a life without love.
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Caitlin's frenzied fingers struck the final chord as the scene disappeared. The keys finally released her fingers as wispy clouds covered the moon. She was breathing hard, sweat dripping from her forehead, pulse racing, fingers cramping.
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She spun around in amazement. The courtyard was dark and empty. The walls were bare, the rosebushes gone. The piano sat crookedly on the ground, two of its legs were broken. It was covered with a thick layer of dust, dark holes gaped where keys were missing. She hurried to the doors, struggled with the rusty latch and stumbled into the hallway, where she stopped to stare in astonishment at the portrait of the beautiful bride on her wedding day. She reached up and traced the face with her fingers. Her hands tingled as strains of the Canon sounded in her ears.
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Erin Wick
A&E Editor
