What stories hide behind Music?

This is a collection of short stories (songfictions), which were inspired by songs. I don't own any of the lyrics. This is a work of fanfiction.


2. Klavier

Inspired by 'Klavier' (Rammstein)


Open this door and you'll see a room in dust. A furniture covered with sheets, which from snowy white turned to grey. Faint sunbeams push through cracks in the shutters. You come in, smothered by mustiness and damp. Behind the door there is a piano in the far corner.


Cast away the cover on the instrument. A dark brown piano is with dusty yellowed keys and strings untuned. It has been standing for a long time here, lonely and unwanted. Behind that door she still sits at the piano; however, she does not play it anymore.


Ah, how long ago it was, but I remember it as if it was just yesterday. You lightly touched the keys and filled the room with fluid music. I smiled every time you furtively stole glances at me, thinking I did not notice you. Your plump coral lips curled into a shy smile; you averted your almond eyes. Your hands were trembling when I was covering them with mine. Did you know how beautiful your blushful cheeks were? I was flattered to be the cause. Every time your play began, I held my breath.


Not even a bad day could cause me crumple. The thought of upcoming lesson with you was the one to lead me through the whole day. The sweet elusive odor of your perfume and your hot breath on my skin, when I bent over you to show how to play a piece, infatuated me. I was touching the piano as if I was touching you. I was stroking the keys as if I was stroking your cheek, your neck, your shoulder… Only you could make my heart skip a beat.


“Forever and ever, I will be with you!” you promised me softly through malleable dulcet melody. And I stood there beside the piano, listening to your indecisive confession.  You avouched that you played only for me. However, then you betrayed my trust.


One day I came to our lesson. Behind the closed door I heard you playing. I touched the door handle and was taken aback by a male voice in the room. He was young. He was handsome. He must have been rich just as you were. He was standing on my place beside the piano and listening to your play. You laughed passionately, inciting him. You were fingering over the keys, swaying fervidly, performing the piece I had taught you. Your music, which only I could understand, you were playing for another insensitive man. You made anger bloom inside me.


“He is my teacher,” you told him. 'Just teacher'! You cruelly pierced my heart. “He is my fiancé,” you addressed to me, and I heard happy notes in your tone. How dared you befool me all this time?


We were left alone in this stained room. You were playing the piano as you always did. The music full of affectation – false as you. I furiously hit the keyboard, shouting, “Again. Again… Again!” And you, frightened, played anew. However, your melody failed to make me satisfied. It was nourishing my jaundice alone.


I squeezed your fragile long neck - the neck, which I used to crave to kiss. You could not breathe. You tried to scream. Your bewildered eyes were moist with tears. The cacophony of notes filled the room. Ah, it was just like my feelings...


Then you stopped fecklessly trying to escape and hanged in my hands. Your breasts were no longer heaving from breath… A single tear had dripped on your face.


I closed the door. Someone asked about you. They entered the room. Oh! How your mother shrieked. I heard your mother's pleadings, while your father was beating me up. His hits were nothing compared to your cruelty. You were rived from the piano, and no one believed I was fatally ill of grief and stench.



There, beside the piano, I used to listen to her. And when she began to play, I held my breath.


There, beside the piano, she was listening to me. And when I started playing, she held her breath…
















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