The Tragic Organ Player (Short Story)

4

Timothy's eyes blurred and readjusted, taking note of the man sitting on the organ bench. There was nothing special about the man – in fact, there was nothing describable about him at all. He was neither tall nor short, straight nor crooked, young nor old. He didn't appear to be local or foreign, either. He was simply a ghost with flesh.

The man played a soft chord. Timothy straightened.

"Yes," Timothy replied. "I've come to see you about this insistent playing. It's quite difficult, you know, to go about daily life with your constant hammering."

The piano player gave a faint smile and played another chord.

"Do you dislike my playing?"

"I wouldn't call it dislike. You're quite talented. Regardless, it's unbearable."

"But music like mine must be played, you know. It's unavoidable."

Timothy scratched his chin. "A rather odd sentiment."

"Only a truth most people care not to think about."

"Must you play your songs so loudly?"

"I'm not playing loudly at all. If I was, we wouldn't be speaking so calmly as we are now."

Timothy stopped at the realization. Yes, the music was quite quiet in this church. He could barely hear the tune at all. But when he was outside or in his home, the music filled up the entire city.

"Rather peculiar," he commented. "Your melodies are overbearing outside of this room."

The organ player shrugged. "But people are addicted to them, nonetheless."

Timothy sat on the pew behind the organ player, in the front row.

"There's rumors about you, you know," he said.

The organ player chuckled. "Oh? What sort?"

"That you're a murderer. Or a witch who practices black magic."

The organ player laughed. "I don't kill anyone. What a ridiculous notion."

"And the black magic?"

"A little less ridiculous, perhaps."

"So you're a witch?"

"I would say a shapeshifter of sorts."

Timothy sat up straight, not sure if what he was feeling was fear or excitement. "Is there such a thing?"

The organ player nodded. "It's not so uncommon. Even you are a shapeshifter of sorts. A man's soul can shift into all kinds of animals; into beings he never knew existed."