The Pianist's Curse

The woods up on the hill were a place of legend. Locals spoke in hushed tones about them, warning travelers to never stray too close, especially after dark. No one could explain it, but anyone who ventured near the woods heard the unmistakable sound of a piano playing—soft, haunting, and seductive. Those who followed the music were never seen again.

It was said that the music led to the mansion—the old, decrepit structure that stood in the heart of the forest, hidden behind tangled trees and mist. Few had seen it, but those who did never made it out to tell their story.

Aniket, a 24-year-old hiking enthusiast, had heard the tales all his life but dismissed them as nothing more than village superstitions. He had grown up listening to the stories, fascinated by the mystery but convinced it was all a fabrication. That was, until the day his friend Rohan went missing.

Rohan had been hiking through the forest, aiming to debunk the legend once and for all. He had promised to return by sunset, but when night fell, there was no sign of him. Days turned into weeks, and the search parties came up empty. All they found were his abandoned backpack and a scrap of paper with the hastily scrawled words: "The music... don't follow it."

Determined to uncover the truth, Aniket packed his gear and set out alone toward the woods. He wasn’t afraid—he was angry. Angry at the loss of his friend, angry at the helplessness that followed, and angry at the eerie rumors that now surrounded Rohan’s disappearance. But as Aniket neared the forest, the stories began creeping into his mind. The cursed pianist. The mansion. The music.

By the time he reached the edge of the woods, dusk had fallen, casting long shadows over the trees. The air was thick with fog, and a cold breeze whispered through the branches. Aniket took a deep breath, shaking off the nervousness rising in his chest, and stepped into the forest.

For hours, he trudged through the thick underbrush, the trees closing in on him, their twisted branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. His flashlight flickered in the growing darkness, and soon, the silence became deafening. Not a single bird, not even the sound of insects.

Then, faintly at first, he heard it—the soft, melancholic melody of a piano. The notes floated through the air, wrapping around him like a spell. The sound was beautiful, but there was something deeply unsettling about it. He stopped, listening intently. The music seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing through the trees.

Against his better judgment, Aniket followed the sound. He could feel it pulling him deeper into the forest, guiding his steps as if the music knew where it wanted him to go. The fog thickened, swirling around him, and the trees grew denser, closing in like a maze.

Suddenly, the trees parted, and there it was—the mansion.

The building stood tall, its stone walls cracked and weathered by time. Ivy clung to the sides, and broken windows gaped like dark, hollow eyes. The music was louder now, seeping out of the mansion, the eerie melody filling the air. Aniket’s heart pounded in his chest as he approached the front door, his hand trembling as he reached for the handle.

The door creaked open, revealing a grand hallway bathed in shadows. Dust hung in the air, and the scent of decay clung to everything. At the far end of the hall stood a massive grand piano, its polished surface gleaming despite the gloom.

And sitting at the piano was the figure of a man.

The pianist was tall and gaunt, his face pale as bone, with hollow, sunken eyes. His fingers danced across the keys with unnatural grace, playing the haunting tune that filled the mansion. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothes—a tattered suit, frayed at the edges, as if he had been playing for centuries.

Aniket froze, his breath catching in his throat. The pianist’s eyes slowly lifted from the keys, locking onto him with a cold, lifeless stare.

"You shouldn't have come," the pianist whispered, his voice like the wind through dead leaves. "They always come... but they never leave."

Aniket stumbled backward, but the door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang. The piano’s melody grew louder, more frantic, the notes clashing violently as if the music itself was angry. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing colder with each passing second.

"Who are you?" Aniket demanded, his voice shaking.

The pianist’s fingers never stopped playing, but his hollow eyes never left Aniket. "I am cursed to play. Forever. Trapped in this mansion, these woods. I once had a name, once had a life, but that was taken from me."

Aniket’s mind raced. The stories, the legends—they were true. "Why? What happened to you?"

The pianist’s expression twisted into something pained, almost human for a moment. "I was once the greatest pianist of my time. People came from miles to hear me play. But my ambition... it consumed me. I made a deal—one I should have never made."

"A deal?" Aniket asked, his pulse racing.

The pianist’s voice lowered to a whisper. "With something dark. Something ancient. It promised me fame, talent beyond compare. But I didn’t know the price." His fingers moved faster, the music turning harsh and discordant. "Now, I play for eternity, trapped in this mansion. And all who hear my music... are lost."

Aniket backed away, his heart pounding in his ears. "There has to be a way out," he said, panic rising in his chest.

The pianist’s face darkened. "There is no way out. Not for me, not for you."

Suddenly, the music stopped. The silence that followed was suffocating. The pianist rose from his seat, his gaunt figure towering over Aniket. "You will join the others," he whispered, "trapped in the woods, lost forever. Just like your friend."

Rohan. The name hit Aniket like a punch to the gut. "You... you took him," he stammered.

The pianist smiled, a cold, empty grin. "He followed the music. Just as you did. Now, you belong to the woods, to the curse."

The walls began to close in, the shadows twisting and writhing like living things. The piano’s melody started again, but this time, it was coming from the very air around him. It filled his head, drowning out his thoughts, pulling him deeper into the mansion’s grip.

Aniket tried to run, but the door was gone. The windows were gone. The mansion was swallowing him whole, the music becoming louder, more oppressive. He screamed, but the sound was lost in the overwhelming tide of notes that consumed him.

And then, as quickly as it had started, the music stopped.

The mansion was silent once more, the piano standing alone in the darkened hall. The pianist sat at the keys, his eyes staring blankly ahead, playing his cursed tune for eternity.

And outside, in the woods, the next traveler heard the distant sound of a piano.

The last notes of the cursed melody.

And they too, would follow it, never to return.

The End