Your character moves into a new apartment. On the surface, the place seemed ideal, but his/her first night there, your character discovers a terrible problem with the place that he/she didn’t take into account…

*Bare in mind these pieces are unedited and not drafted*

My suitcases exhaled as I unfastened them from the roof of my car and my work blouses poured out onto the pavement. I quickly stuffed them under my arm and made a hasty ascent up to my new front door where the rest of my luggage reclined. Originally, it was the affordable price that attracted me to this place, a sturdy one bedroom for less than half the price of one in the city was something a girl like me couldn’t pass up. I admit it’s a little remote but I could use some peace and besides, the view isn’t at all offensive or the side of an obnoxious building for that matter. There’s actually grass here and is that a barn I see?

The interior could use a bit of love but a splash of paint, a few cushions and maybe even some expensive curtains would suffice for now. The living area is currently occupied by several of my unpacked boxes and something the estate agent forget to mention, a huge grand piano with a dense blanket of dust which disguises it’s glossy exterior. The stupid thing takes up most of my living room and how on earth am I going to get it out? I’ll have to call Dad in the morning and see what he can do; I’m too tired to even attempt to deal with this. Though magnificent, it’s not for me.

The bathroom light flickers in the most particular way, it throbs and pulsates before deciding on an eerie beige glow. Maybe this apartment wasn’t such a steal after all, there’s a lot to change and repair but it’s habitable, I can’t complain. I get under the quilt and it’s clear how exhausting today has been, my eyes attempt to open but everything is heavier, even my breathing. I try to shift myself onto my side, but the more I try the less movement I make.  I hear music, thank god I’m dreaming. It’s pleasant but sad, what instrument is it? I think it’s a piano, the tune has evolved into a jovial melody and it’s coming from the other room. This makes a change from the horrific nightmares I had last week.

I wake in the morning feeling strangely drowsy; it’s as if I hadn’t slept at all. Moving into the kitchen I flick on the kettle, preparing a cup with the makings of a coffee. I glance into the living room, sighing at the mass of my belongings still to be unpacked.  Before Dad left for work, I rang my parents’ house and listened to the persistent dial tone seven times before I heard a voice.  “Hello? Veronica dear, is this you?” my mother’s soft voice coos down the receiver, she barely finishes her sentence before I ask for dad.

“Your father is busy right now Vee, he’s gone to fix the Parker’s driveway. He’ll be back around noon. You want him to move a-what? A piano? ”

“Yes mum, a friggin’ piano” I must have sounded snappy because she asked so many questions about my mental well-being and if I was drinking any of the herbal tea she had brewed for her ‘darling Veronica’. I couldn’t wait to hang up; her constant inquiries drive me insane. Not to be defeated by the task of relocating the piano, I ventured into the living room to check on it, secretly hoping the ghastly thing would be gone. I sat at the velvety seat and scanned down at the yellowing keys, upon closer scrutiny I noticed obscure finger prints peppered in the dust. I don’t remember touching the keys on arrival, and the thing was practically bathing in dust yesterday.