Melodies and rhythms, music. So many different instruments can be chosen, used to the advantage of the musician. Quinton had a fascination with music, begged his mother to let him learn the piano. It was his calling. The keys were perfect under his fingers. Quin found passion in piano. He learned well, became great. Someone to look up to. Yet he was reckless from the time he could walk. The law was below him in his eyes, just as divine power didn’t exist. Quin was the king and the world was his domain. Nothing could challenge him, especially when he played sweet music. It was like he was powerful, someone who could take and take without much care in the world.

Quin, however, took that point of view too far. Exploring an abandoned building with a few friends, flashlights illuminating the dusty walls and floor. He split off from the group, finding himself in the basement of the building. He could’ve sworn he heard something, a whispering calling his name. His friends would be insane to follow him down here, right? His flashlight illuminated the middle of the room. A piano sat there, grand and calling to him. Quin barely recognized that he had sat down on its old bench, dust flying up around him. His fingers touched the keys, somehow clean and pristine. He pressed down a key, an out of tune noise coming from it. Yet it sounded as beautiful as any other. Quinton played that piano as if he was glued to it. He couldn’t leave that seat until a song was played through. Cursing himself without the knowledge of doing so. At least not until he finished said song and the feeling of a chill ran down his spine.

A hand reached out to him. A voice ringing in his ears. One he didn’t recognize as his friends. Quinton froze, unable to turn around, hands shaking above the piano keys.

“What… did you say?” his ears were ringing and his voice shaking as his head turned slightly, only enough to catch a glimpse behind him.