I didn’t have as good a sleep as I expected with my new bedding, I had another nightmare. I dreamed that I woke up in the middle of the night to my mom and my dad screaming. The new items were attacking my family and me, my blanket was swallowing me, the blueberry pie was hitting my mother in the face, and the iPhone X was lodging itself into my Dad’s mouth, choking him. I tried to save them, but because of the blanket, I couldn’t get to them. I woke up, dripping in sweat, and I decided when I retreated to the piano again the next morning, there would be no more wishes. That nightmare showed me I needed to stop.

After having the same breakfast as the day before, I heard my parents wake up excitedly. “I want a croissant for breakfast this time Rose!” my mom sang.

“Same for me!” my Dad piped.

I met them in the upstairs hallway. “Sorry, no more wishes,” I answered in a fake sad voice.

“What are you talking about?” my mom snipped.

“I think it was a one-day thing,” I lied.

“A one-day thing! A one-day thing! Rose, are you kidding me?!” my mom screamed.

“Rose, can’t you do it again?” my dad asked.

“No I’m sorry, but no.”

“Ugh!” my mom whined.

My dad stumbled for words, ”Can’t you grant us one more wish?”

“No,” I said firmly as I walked up the stairs.

I wanted to be done with that dumb old piano, I honestly did. With all the nightmares and signs of evil I got from that thing, I wanted it to be done, but I had one question. I marched up the stairs for what I wanted to be the last time to the 4th floor. I sat down uncomfortably played another round of “Castle In My Dreams” slowly and carefully, thinking the whole way through about the magic piano and how it worked. I knew after that dream last night with the items attacking my family and me that there had to be a catch. Nothing is so good that it will grant any wish you want with no cost. I wanted to know how the piano worked. At the end of the song the last golden yellow color I ever wanted to see again shone through all the notes on the page. I thought real hard. “I want to know how you work,” I whispered curiously.

The piano opened up slowly to reveal at least ten hearts with names under them. The hearts were pumping in a disgusting, eerie way, still beating, even though out of the bodies of their owners. I read the writing under one of the first hearts, Patricia's soul. I guess they were souls. I read them all off, Izach was second after Patricia, Ruby third, Lindsey fourth, John fifth, Ron sixth, Isabelle seventh, Ruth eighth, George (my grandpa) ninth and me tenth. I gasped with fear as a cold feeling arose through me. All the souls except mine were full with a gross green liquid, mine only halfway.

My grandpa died on the stool of this piano...the piano killed my grandpa! Therefore, the piano was killing me. My grandpa got the piano from an antique shop, so other people owned the piano, and that is why there were other souls in the piano beside me and grandpa’s. The piano killed them too. But how? I thought. We wish on the piano, that probably has something to do with it. I kept thinking, how would it suck your soul? Then, it hit me. The piano has more of your soul as you keep wishing, by learning about you. Like when I wished for food, it learned I was hungry for food I didn’t have, which meant I didn’t have much money. It was too good to be true, the wishes were adverse. I danced around that I figured out how the piano killed people, but then I realized a soul-sucking piano is in my house, and I am halfway to death. In a sudden state of panic, I analyzed my mission. Grandpa wanted me to have this piano so I could save the souls. Now I was going to get their souls back, even if I have to sacrifice mine.

With fear and a little bit of determination, I set out,(“Rose!” my nosy mom said, “where are you going?”) running through the front door, past a few blocks of houses, and to Grandpa’s grave. I ran, and I ran, as fast as I could. I had gotten tired, but I didn’t have time to take a break. Time was running out for me, and soon enough I would have the same fate as my grandpa. Sweat trickled down my face as I ran. The cold secret I had just learned was inside me, and I couldn't take it out. How I wished I didn’t ask the piano how it worked. How I wished I didn’t know, but now I knew, and you can’t unlearn. I arrived at the graveyard where Grandpa lay. They had buried him at the graveyard near the beach closest to his house, for his house was where he spent most of his time with his piano and music pieces. I frowned darkly as I searched for his grave. When it seemed like five hours had passed, I found the grave. At the way back there was a small stone with the name George T. Smith engraved on it. I brushed my hand along his engraved name, observing that dust had already collected on the stone although he was buried only a couple weeks ago.

“Grandpa?” I asked. Was he still alive? Could one live without a soul? His grave was still, answering my question. Even if Grandpa was dead the best I could do was save the next person who would own this piano. That piano had no right to exist.

I ran back home, thinking of how to get back the souls. The wind was pulling my hair in my face, and the sky up above seemed to be laughing at my desperation. Time was running out quickly, and I would have to act fast.

“What am I going to do?” I asked myself as I reached the old rickety steps that lead to Grandpa’s house. There was no one to answer or help me now. Grandpa wanted me to save the souls, so that’s what I was going to do. The piano already took all the people that probably could have helped me most. I wearily walked into the house, passing by my computer addicted parents. By now I had gotten used to the weird look of the desks and furniture all over the place. Grandpa always had his own way of doing things. He always mixed things up, made them different, so this house was a perfect replica of his personality. I don’t know anybody else in the world whom I would think to own this house except him. It was an excellent fit for Grandpa. I sighed, he was the best. I ran up the stairs and into my bedroom, ready to start planning.

“Rose clean up the garden outside, I would really like a pretty garden,” my mom ordered me. At this point I ignore her.

The piano was dominant from the souls, but the piano didn’t have a brain. Or did it? Assuming the piano didn’t have a brain, it would probably be easy to confuse it. It doesn’t have any brain as I know of, but it has nine and a half souls including mine. I would have to beat it at its own game. If I played “Castle In My Dreams” then asked it to release the souls, would it work? There was only one way to find out. I raced up the stairs and into the attic. I was bored of playing that same song over and over again, but I had to get those souls, I had to. I played the dreadful song and wished over and over again “release the souls.” In the end, no souls were released, and all I got was an evil message written in gold on the keys. A fear like never before now had its place inside of me, digging a deep, deep hole through my heart. “You can’t run away from your fate,” it said. I tried to put happy thoughts into my mind.

“Going to my and Grandpa’s favorite restaurant,” I listed. “At the beach with Grandpa.” I tried to think of Grandpa, I tried to think of my friends, all my good memories, but all of it was slipping away. “I don’t know if I can do it, Grandpa,” I whimpered. Who knew my worst nightmare would be a piano?

I looked out at the sky from the big attic window, wishing we had never moved from Ohio. I would have friends, I would have things to do, I wouldn’t have to start over again, and most of all I wouldn’t have to worry about that dumb old piano!