The Spirit of Music

Mr. Stanton

"A ghost?" Mr. Stanton said in amazement. I only nodded my head. "Do tell!" He responded in a childlike glee and curiosity that made a smile grow on my own face.

"Well, it started a little over a year ago," I began, fiddling with my fingers as I spoke. "I had moved into my apartment not too long before this started, but I found out that it wasn't my apartment that was haunted. It was that." I said as I pointed at the music book. "I bought that at an estate sale just so I could have a little decor in my place, along with some other books that I would probably never read. Well, every day I woke up, I noticed that the book would be turned to that page on the coffee table in my living area. I ignored it for a while, but then one day it was outside my bedroom door, just at the foot of it so I couldn't miss it. I didn't really know what to do with it at first, so I just looked at it to see if I could find something strange on it. I couldn't find anything for the longest time, so I just decided to watch it through a night to see if it was someone messing with me in a really convoluted plan. Then the book opened up again, at 2:30 in the morning exactly." Mr. Stanton let out an audible gasp, but he kept his curious grin. "I knew then that I would have to learn how to play this. So I tried to learn how to play it for the longest time back at the old piano shop I went to, but I didn't make it very far." I finished. Mr. Stanton, seemingly enraptured by the story, stood up with a big smile and grasped the music in his hands.

"Well luckily for you I can teach you! If you can allow me to learn this over the next few weeks I can teach you how to play it! That way, you can have that pesky ghost problem fixed." He said with a chuckle. I was glad that he was taking this whole situation in stride instead of making fun of it or just not believing it like everyone else I told.

"Well, it's not really pesky, I just feel bad for whoever it is. They aren't mean or anything like that, they just want me to play this."

"Does it have to be you who plays it, or can it be someone else?" He asked, squinting as he flipped through the pages of music.

"I don't know, the rules haven't exactly been set up very well, all I know is that whoever it is wants me to play it." Mr. Stanton just nodded his head and closed the book.

"Very well. Go ahead and leave your number here and I will call you when I am ready to teach you this piece. In the meantime, I will learn this work and should be able to start teaching you within the next month or two." He smiled at me warmly as I left, but my mind was still fluttering with questions. I was happy that I finally found someone who could actually help me, and I didn't feel so alone anymore. I still wondered what would happen over the next few weeks though.

The answer to that question was that I would see a lot more music notes in random places. Sometimes there would be notes in the steam on the mirror after a hot shower on a cold night. Sometimes they were in the frost on my windows in the morning after a chilly winter night. Whoever it was still wanted me to play this song, and they were making it very obvious.

After about five weeks, I got the call from Mr. Stanton saying he was ready to teach me the piece. I drove down to the piano shop as it started snowing, the daylight just disappearing as the night crept in to take its place. I was worried that if it snowed too hard that I wouldn't be able to drive out, or maybe I would have to put chains on, but that would have to wait. I was on a mission. I finally got to the shop and parked in the back lot before hopping out into the dark and chilly night that was just outside my car door. I strolled to the storefront and walked in, being greeted by the warmth of the building. Mr. Stanton had cranked the heat up during this time, and I didn't blame him. It felt nice and cozy inside, similar to how I felt on the Thanksgiving days of my childhood when my family would all come home. No one else was in the shop, which didn't come as a big surprise to me since it was a Thursday night in the early winter. Mr. Stanton heard the bell above the door jingle and looked up from the piano he was playing near the back of the shop, a lovely black grand piano.

"Ah, you're back! Glad to see you could make it, I've got some interesting news for you to hear." He said as he stood up and shuffled over to me. I smiled and walked over to him as he held up my sheet music.

"Well go ahead, I want to hear it!" I said expectantly. He smiled and held the book to me.

"I had quite the time trying to learn it, I'll tell you that much. Anytime I made a mistake while playing a movement or if I didn't play it to this ghosts liking, the book would shut close as if they were telling me that I was wrong. Eventually I got it to the point where I could play it without the book slamming shut, but let me tell you, with my hands being so old it was difficult. Hopefully you'll have more luck with it than I did." He regaled me. I noticed he had a habit to talk with his hands, as he gestured all over the place depending on where he was in the story.

"I'm glad to hear you were able to learn the piece."

"Oh that's not all!" He said, cutting me off. "I know what this piece is called, to a certain extent." I looked at him puzzled. How can he know what it's called, but only partially? "It's called-or rather it's an adaptation of a piece called 'Capriccio Espagnol' by a Rimsky Korsakov. At least, I believe that's what it is, it's difficult to tell since some parts sound similar to the piece, yet other parts don't. To me it sounds like there should be more going on at the treble clef, but I don't know what it could be. I tried to look it up, but I'm not that good with technology as you might imagine, so I wasn't able to find much else about the work." He concluded, looking a little displeased with himself that he wasn't able to find anything on the matter.

"It's alright, I have time to learn it anyways, so there's that! So what can you tell me about this piece anyways?" I asked.

"About Capriccio Espagnol?" I nodded my head. "Well, it's an orchestral piece, which means it's played in a symphony, which is why I can't understand why it's only a sheet of music for the piano. It does make sense I suppose, since there are longer rests in some movements, but this all is still a puzzle to me." He spoke. I nodded my head, but still had some questions on my mind.

"So what do you think is the problem?" I asked, the one question on my mind that I needed an answer to. However, the answer only led to more questions.

"Well, my friend, it seems that this piece of music, is part of a larger work."