Short story: Stool

He was walking through the woods when he noticed a piano stool in the foliage. It had obviously been there for quite a while–the varnish was peeling from the wood. He ignored it and continued, only to find another, newer piano stool in the next clearing.

He began to feel nervous, and slowed his walking so as to make less noise. As he rounded the next group of trees, he saw it hiding behind a group of large oaks. It was a magnificent specimen, easily three meters long–a concert grand, if he wasn’t mistaken. A rare sighting indeed; most of them had been killed by poachers, butchered for their ivory.

The piano stood quietly, its lid open to catch the warmth of the sun. He tried to move a little closer, to get a clearer look at it, but it sounded a low chord, a diminished seventh. He knew better than to ignore the warning–although a concert grand is slow and gentle, this one could easily kill him if it decided to jump on him. He backed away through the woods, turned, and retreated.