As he walked down the hallways, shelves lined with books, the sounds of a piano echoed throughout the building. Going past the shelves: fictitious, realistic, fantastical, all thoughts of the creative mind exposed to paper and covers, lying there, thin layers of dust atop the leather covers and age old pages. The piano still rings throughout. his trench coat flapping behind him, as he now runs through, past the shelves, not even batting an eye to the carefully crafted molding or the renaissance feel of the place as a whole. He stopped abruptly as the sight of the grand piano lay before him. An air of wisdom and age surrounds it, but something mystifying as well. The sunlight shines onto it as the music still goes. Yet, there is not a person sitting there, nor is there one playing such melodies anywhere. He looks around as the dark, yet happy; the bright yet sad symphonies come from it. He stares at it in awe and fear as it plays itself, continuing its beautiful melodies.
He circles around the grand piano, curiosity overcoming everything else. Nothing is there besides himself, the piano, and the knowledge in papers around him. He steps closer to the instrument. Wooden, and ancient. There is a thin layer of dust atop the grand instrument, just as there is for everything else in the building. The dust, suddenly, is disturbed but not by him. Perhaps by some unseen force, for there isn't even the slightest amount of wind or breeze flowing throughout the building. He had not even felt a thing.
What could possibly be there? No wind. No animals scurrying about. Nothing but his footsteps and now heavy breathing to disturb the perfect stillness of the place. Yet, there was still the dust moving on its own. Dancing around the keys. He steps once backward now fearful of what may be lurking, unseen.
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Another step then he turns around completely and make their way back. Pass the piano, pass the shelves, pass the renaissance feel and the carefully crafted molding. Then out the door and into the rain, splashing down onto the asphalt. It was warm, almost, despite the water pouring down from above and it being Autumn. Just the beginning of September. Him, whose name is Nox, stopped to tuck his book (that he had the entire time for whatever reason) under his arm, buttoned up hisr coat and started off towards his home again.
Splashing through the muddy ground, the scent of wet leaves filling his nose, he finally arrived home. Up in his room, he set everything down and hung up his coat. So organized, he was, with everything. Desk with neat piles of textbooks, papers and files, a computer and light. Bed always made and the room always tidy. He got into his nightshirt and went into a dreamless sleep, or so he thought.
–
Back in the library, just as he was before, only it's different. Perhaps it's the air or the much darker and urgent piano playing but it surely was not the same. Nox was running past the shelves, only there wasn't an end to it. Then came the crashing of the books just barely following the stomps of his feet. Then bookcases came crashing with it, threatening to take Nox down with it.
Then he came to the piano. The lovely grand piano, playing itself. The dark and urgent melodies emanating from it. This time, quite unlike before, there was someone or rather something sitting at the stool. Nox came closer to the piano and stopped to breathe. Then a loud crash and with it a cloud of dust.
"Cough cough"
The loud noise and urgency had stopped. It was so quiet, so still and Nox looked around after the dust had settled. The books and their shelves had fallen. Everywhere but the area of the piano. Now there was time to assess the one sitting at the stool. Nox had but turned their head then….
Bzzz bzzz
"Oh, it was all but a dream. Quite thankfully may I add." Nox thought rising from the covers of his bed.
He got out and stretched, then made his bed as best as possible. Only a few days left until classes start and he best start preparing for it. He turns again to look at the calendar on the wall. Exactly 3 days, then Monday is the first day of their senior year of high school. Today, he shall finish any preparations and purchases that must be done, then the weekend shall hopefully be relaxing.