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It was a beautiful black piano. It looked like it was freshly made. He hoped so since he ordered a new one, but still, it looked a bit too new. He was still pleased, he has waited weeks for it.
As he played his scale for the first time, he became mesmerized by the bright and beautiful sound it made. The sound it made went into his ears and stuck for a little bit. He closed his eyes and let his fingers do the work.
He began to play a song. He didn't know how he was doing it. He had no sheet music to go off of, and it didn't feel as if he was improvising, it was like he knew the song already.
Confused, he stepped away from his piano and grabbed a drink. A few drinks later, he felt like practicing his scales for a bit. The piano group concert was in a few weeks, so he pulled out his sheet music and began to play.
He noticed a few times that he would phase out for a few seconds and begin to play something different, but then snapped back into his original piece as soon as he began to notice. He played and he played, hours passed, and he began to get tired.
He laid down, thinking about his new piano. He loved it. The sounds it made compelled him. He finally dozed off and slept. He dreamed of a familiar, steady sound. Almost like an E key being hit about once every two seconds. It was very faint and began to fall into a deep sleep. Then the screaming began. The screaming was associated with an unfamiliar face. He woke up, dripping in sweat. He had the very strong urge to write something.
He grabbed a piece of paper and began to write a song. He didn't know where it was coming from, maybe somewhere deep in his subconscious, or maybe from some external source. He wrote, and wrote, and wrote. He gasped for air and looked down.
There, laying before him was a very intricate and elaborate piece. He took it and brought it to his piano. He tried reading it and playing it. It was extremely difficult, way beyond his skill level. He closed his eyes and again, let his fingers do the work. He began to play it perfectly with his eyes closed. He played, and played, and played.
He stopped for a moment to get a drink to notice the insignia of the company who made the piano. It was the same one from his vivid nightmare. He was confused, but still sat down and played.
He played for a bit, and then a little bit more, and a bit more. While his eyes were closed, he saw the face. After another few hours of looking at this face and playing, a very quiet screaming started, he sat and laughed.
A few days later, his friend called several times with no answer. He drove to Lenny's house and knocked. No answer. He walked in and saw a horrid sight. A dead Lenny sat at the piano with an unfamiliar look on his face.
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)