Player Piano Novels & Stories

"I'll not. What song are you going to play?" "You'll tell me the name when I'll finish." Crystal put her fingers on the piano. Taking a deep breath, Crystal's fingers started playing on the piano. An overwhelming melody filled the room again. She was playing chords D, Bm, G, A, playing those notes with her left hand, and arpeggiating the chords on her right hand. Daniel looked at her who was so into playing the piano, she was playing it like a professional. She didn't forget, she just didn't have the confidence because of her nervousness.

At last, my fingers flew across the screen, sending a message into the night. Staring at the white walls above me, a sudden flash of clarity swept through my mind. It was as if a weight had lifted. Born into a family like mine, with a father like him, I had always tried to save as many people as I could. What more could I expect in return? Maybe I was simply born to pay back the Chandlers.

Her backpack bouncing on her back. She walked closer to the piano with slow steps, pressing the keys softly making the sound resound in the room. The sound bounced on the blue walls echoing in the room. Her fingers started working on their own as she played a tune she didn't know ever existed. She never took piano lessons but her fingers worked on their own. She sat down on the dusty chair and closed her eyes.

So it's shocking to see one in Saint's house that he can also play the piano gracefully. I take a deep breath, adjust my position on the white piano bench, ready my bare foot on the pedal. I steady my fingers on the black and white keys and start to play. The soft music hums in the air. Notes are swirling around in my head. The black and white keys flash before my eyes making my fingers respond to time and rhythm. Once I master a piece, my fingers fly on the piano playing challenging scales and chords that I did not know my hands could reach. The only time I feel peace and composure. The only time where I can be in control and feel free in my life.

He could not help but feel the weight of every note and emotion as she prepared to perform. Taking a deep breath, she sat at the polished ebony keys, her fingers gently caressing them with reverence. The instrument seemed to come alive beneath her touch, resonating with a soft, melodious hum. As she began to play, the first notes of the piano danced through the air, filling the grand room with a hauntingly beautiful melody.

Darick opened the door and flicked on the light. Before me stood a vast wooden Baldwin grand piano. The walls were painted black and filled with pictures of famous jazz artists and other musicians. I had never been in this room and didn't even know it existed. Darick's house was like a maze, and I was no longer certain how many rooms there were. "Are you going to sing and play the piano for me?" I asked as I slid my finger across the keys. "No," he responded with a hint of seriousness in his voice.

She sat ramrod-straight and perched on the edge of the low padded bench, her knees pressed together, one ankle laced over the other and slightly hidden beneath the bench as her eyes fixated on the black and white keys before her. The piano had returned from Germany where it had been taken for restoration. Its silken black colour glossed beneath the afternoon rays of light that slipped through the open window in the parlour. Parisa studied the lid prop, straightened and fixed from where it had shattered when he slammed his wife’s face into the lid. The weight of her body coupled with his unnatural strength sent splinters of wood dancing across the air and ribbons of blood coursing over the ke

"Very similar, much more than the prior instrument. Several other excellent pianists have chosen the Silent and have been completely satisfied. It's the same mechanism, made in the same factory - by the same craftsmen. It's as close a match as you will find, I believe." She pursed her lips. "Alright. I'll practice my begging. But... Peter - since I'm here, may I be extraordinarily cheeky?" "I have a suspicion I know what you are going to ask, and let me just be frank - I live for these moments," said Mr Bittern. "How may I be of assistance to you?" "The concert grand - the CX1, the Black Beauty. May I introduce myself to her?"

Chloe retorted, "But I don't think it's a good idea if I continue to have this discussion with you. I shouldn't have asked in the first place so I blame myself" "Fine. We won't talk any more. But you had your dance, baby. Now it's time for mine" She hesitated. Something inside her clenched tight at the endearment. God, she wanted him to say it again. Before she could respond, another song began to play. It was another slow, romantic one, chosen to encourage physical and conversational intimacy. Timothy gritted his teeth and molded her close, struggling to remain unaffected. She brushed against him as they drifted across the floor and his entire body clenched in response.

It was closed tight, but from the gap beneath it, a warm light spilled out, pulsing gently in time with the soft music. My hand rose hesitantly. But curiosity won. I touched the handle—it was ice cold, like it had just come out of a freezer. I cracked the door open. The music grew clearer. Not a music box. A piano. Someone was playing a piano in there. I opened the door slightly wider and peeked inside. It was a large room with high walls and arched windows. In the center stood a grand black piano, elegant and majestic. In front of it, someone sat with their back to me, fingers gliding across the keys with a soft, beautiful touch.