The Piano

This short story is about many of us, including me. A spin-off on the old classic. I wrote it in one sitting. Enjoy.


Once there was a piano. Fresh from the manufacturers, its shiny wood, smooth keys, and elegant design made it a spectacle to behold, and its delicately crafted array of strings and hammers were all perfectly in tune and in pristine condition. She was very proud and very lovely and very excited to make music.

A wealthy family bought the piano and took it home to their beautifully furnished living room. The mother could play and sing quite well, but her children abused it and did not appreciate its worth or the music. They would sit at the bench for half hour each day as instructed and glumly pound away at the keys. The piano would take the wrath because she knew that at the end of the day, the mother would caress her keys again and beautiful music would pour from her. The piano lived for those moments, and felt useless when she wasn't being played at all.

The youngest son, however, had a special gift for playing the instrument, and when he was grown and had a house of his own, his parents gave him the aging piano to keep in his own home. He loved the piano but he had a career now and sometimes the piano went weeks or even months without being played. She felt very lonely and sad, but she always clung the promise of being played again. One day the man she lived with sat in the living room staring at her for a long time. Out loud he said, "I would like to play piano more often, as I once had a great gift for music and I would like to revive that. However, I am going to need a more suitable piano. Besides, the local church needs a piano for their Sunday School room. How would you like to live in a church?" The piano, unable to respond, grew very nervous.

It wasn't long before several strong young men carried her to a van and then to a small church slightly off the beaten path. She was taken downstairs and into a small room with tables and chairs. From then on, she was played once a week as little children sang songs about God. The old woman who sat at the bench every week always complained about how out of tune the piano was and how the church wasn't investing itself in music.

Many years passed. Many different pianists played the old piano each week, and slowly the number of children that came fell. Eventually no children came at all, so the piano players didn't come either, and the piano went years without producing any music. She knew she was old and not very good at producing good music any longer. She felt completely worthless.

One day gave the piano a bit of hope, but it soon faded. More strong young men came and carried the piano and she found herself at a used piano store. The man at the store frowned at her and said she wasn't worth much but he would take her. She found herself in a dark, back corner of the store. When customers came, they never went over to her. Even if they did happen to glance at her, they could see that she was too beat up and worn to be of much worth.

The piano was tired of not making music. She hadn't been played in many years, but she knew that if someone would play her, her music would make listeners cringe. She thought it would be better if she was broken apart and her parts were used for other things, or even just thrown away. She didn't want to sit in the corner and feel like this anymore. She wanted her pain to end.

Then, one day, a man came into the store. He was tall and handsome and his hands looked sturdy and long, perfect for piano playing. The owner of the store saw him and looked very surprised to see the man. "What are you doing here?" he exclaimed. "You are a great concert pianist, and yet you go to a used piano shop to look for pianos?" The concert pianist smiled and said, "Yes, I am in need of a new piano for my home on which to practice for many hours. I need something with good endurance."

The store owner took the man around to the finest pianos he had in his store, but the concert pianist seemed disinterested in all of them. Then he saw the piano in the corner in the back. "What about that one?" he asked. "It is very old and broken in several places. You would not be interested in such a piano." "How old is it?" the concert pianist asked. When the store owner told him the year, the concert pianist smiled knowingly at the dusty old piano. "You are very enduring indeed. How would you like to come home to my living room and play music again?" The store owner gasped. "You want this piano?" I assure you it is not very expensive, but do not be assured of anything else. It is practically worthless. The concert pianist retorted, "Are you claiming I don't know pianos? I'll take it." And with that, the piano had found a new home.

The concert pianist took great care in transporting the piano. When it was finally placed in his luxurious, carpeted living room, the piano felt very uncomfortable and out of place. "I don't belong here," she thought, "I am not worth being played at all, let alone by this great pianist with so much talent." But before she knew it, the concert pianist was at the bench, extending his fingers, and he began to play. He played a simple tune, then said, "Alright, let's get to work." He took out a box of tools, and all through the night, the piano got key replacements, tuning, dusted, and polished. Then the concert pianist played again; this time a much more complex and beautiful piece. He sighed contentedly, said "I knew what you were worth; what kind of music you were capable of. You only needed the right care and the right pianist, didn't you?"

Then he got up and went to sleep after a long night of work, but the piano sat there, bursting with joy at her newfound abilities, her restored hope, and the music she had been wanting to make all along.


God bless