Baby Grand

By Alex McMahon

The auditorium was darker than most coffee. Why was it dark? Most likely because the lights were out. Even had the lights been on, it still would have been annoyingly dark, because dust clogged most lamps in the building.

A janitor entered the auditorium. He couldn't see but he didn't to. Why? Because he had lived most of his life in the auditorium. He had stayed even after the auditorium held its last play 20 years ago. But he didn't keep the place too clean anymore. It was his home, not a public establishment.

Discontent rattled the janitor's cerebrum. The auditorium spoke to him. It was hungry. The janitor wondered how it would manifest itself this time (the auditorium, that is.) Most likely in the same manner as it had for the last five years.

"Help, help!" the janitor's panic-filled screams penetrated outside. Although old, the city street on which the auditorium stood was still fairly respectable. Why? Damned if I know, ask an economist. A respectable man walking down the street heard the elderly cries emitting from the old, beautiful, closed building and entered quickly. Had some senile old chap fallen and broken a hip? Who knows?

The respectable young man entered the auditorium cautiously, for it was dark due to the lack of daytime at the moment. He called out to the tragic individual he imagined to be in the place. No response came.

The respectable young man pulled a tiny flashlight from his coat pocket and shined it forward. The tiny feeble beam revealed a maggnificent stage, made all the more breathtaking by the mountains of pale dust and cobwebs cascading down the curtains.

Smitten the Gothic beauty, he stumbled towards it...

A triangular, dusty ebony monster issued pounding and discordant screams as it leaped (awkwardly, I might add) off the stage. Its enormous maw gaping wide open, it swallowed the respectable young man after three brutal chomps. Closing its mouth, it stumbled back onto the stage.

The janitor moved out of his safe shadowed comer and silently entered stage left. He looked about for anyone who may have followed the respectable young man. but saw only darkness and heard only silence. With quick movements, he scuttled over to the old piano on stage and opened it (not the keyboard pan, the inside working guts part). He smiled. The interior was, as always, filled with bones.