Song of the Past

It had been many years since Ash called this place home, and wood groaned beneath his feet when he finally stepped through the door. A few rats darted across the woodwork as Ash walked along the narrow corridor.

It wasn’t a big house, just enough for a small family. Time and people left it a wreck, showered dust over the floral carvings, bent the lacquer furniture out of shape. He hesitated before testing the hallway staircase, finding no good grip on the ceiling-high railing. He saw burned photographs beneath the cracked glass. He heard the wind howling through the corridors where he played as a child.

Ash was glad to be home, he truly was. But there was no denying the memories when the wreckage was all around him.

Leia’s piano still stood in that same corner by the wall. He found himself wiping the dust off its black surface with his bare hands, opening the lid, pressing the keys. A memory of a girl sat beside him, mumbling softly to herself as she played. She taught him a few songs. He was surprised he still remembered them. He hadn’t touched a piano in years.

Sound filled the trembling room. All that Ash was feeling — emptiness, sorrow, regret — echoed around him as he played. But when he opened his eyes, there was nothing but darkness.