The HouseMature

 Violet

We pushed the door open, sending tendrils of light dashing across the room. A thin layer of dust floated on the golden rays, the large Victorian home appearing quite full of interesting things. Trickets lay here and there in the faded light, delicate furniture placed here and there in it's elegant fashion. It appeared this house was set for entertaining in the same area that it was built.

"What is this place?" muttered Lily, her white hair shimmering in the half-light.

I stepped inside, brushing open some curtains, faded by the sunrays and smelling as if they were sprayed with a grandmother's perfume. Evening light enhanced the room, brining everything to a better view. All of us began wandering about the room; I was drawn away from the window to an old piano tucked in the corner. A vase sat on it's dusty surface, wilted stems bending sadly about the rim, crimson red petals tinged brown crinkled up at it's base.

Unfolding the top, I ran my fingers over the smooth, weighted keys, yellowed over the ages. I began to drum out a song over the piano, my long, slender fingers dancing over the surface. The house filled with the melancholy tune, the deep notes bouncing off the walls and swirling through the hallways.

The End

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