Elyse was still playing outside when I sat down at the piano. I started with Chopin and that kept my mind off her pretty well, at least until the knocking started. A little while later the door caved in and I heard noises from the first floor.
I moved on to Beethoven, but even he couldn’t hide the sound of the footsteps wandering from room to room and finally finding the stairs. When the last note died away, I looked behind me.
It was Elyse.
She smiled at me with red-rimmed lips, and I screamed at last.
I’m pretty sure my Elyse was not the one old Beethoven had in mind when he wrote “Fur Elise.” Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. The weekly photo that inspired this story is below: