“Make your move, come on. It’s just a chessboard. I want the others to play, too.”
“You taught me this game yesterday and expect me to be a champion today.”
“Of course. You’re one of us. That’s why they’ve placed our beds next to each other. You see, the other boys aren’t as quick and sharp as you and me.”
Amy and Marc giggled in their pajamas, ensuring the compresses didn’t twist. Both children underwent appendicitis surgery a couple of days ago and were recovering fast.
“Why does Peter never play with us?”
“I don’t know. When I asked him, he shrugged and left the room.”
“He is strange.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
*****
“Amy, what are you doing here?”
“You always left shortly after Miss Gloak served us lunch. I was curious to see where you’re going.”
“And your conclusion was to follow and spy on me? Damn. Did you tell anyone when you left?"
“No, I didn’t.”
“At least I don’t have to worry about that. Follow me. Quickly. Let’s hide underneath the table with the purple cloth.”
“Why are we hiding, Peter?”
“Shhhhhhhh. Be quiet.”
A team of agile men dressed in white coats passed by. We could see their feet and hear them talk about cases. They proceeded down the corridor and entered the last room on the left.
Peter pulled my arm and asked me to follow him swiftly. We ran in the opposite direction and turned right in the adjacent hallway. A strange noise came from behind doors secured by barns of steel.
“This is where they keep the crazy ones. So they say, but I’m not convinced. I met some of the children, you know. They are very gifted.”
“What are you talking about, Peter? Where are you taking me? You’re acting weird. I want to go back.”
“We can’t go back. We have to play the instruments, and once they’re attuned, we will return.”
“What kind of instruments?”
*****
The Harp - Fiction Story by Krisz Rokk
A big wooden door shut behind us, and before you know it, Peter jumped on top of a gorgeous turquoise piano playing a clear quartz violin.
The room was shimmering, and musical instruments of all shapes and sizes decorated the space. Sparkles of gold and diamond coated each instrument, and once you touched them, they changed their coloring.
Amy picked up a beautiful harmonica and started blowing into it. The small instrument turned dark green while Amy was preoccupied with controlling her breath and turning the output into a melody.
Peter stopped playing and signaled Amy to stop as well.
“I didn’t know you could play a French harp. Can you play the real harp, too?”
“No, no, no. I’m done playing this game with you, Peter. What is this room? What is going on in this hospital? Why do you always come here?”
“You have no clue why you’re here; do you, Amy?”
“What are you talking about, Peter?”
“Let me show you, Amy.”
Peter grabbed Amy’s arm and asked her to detach the compress that was covering her wound after the surgery.
“Now you know the truth. Or at least, part of it.”
*****
I opened the door in front of me and exited. I turned around, gasping for air and unable to lift my feet. After a brief moment, my conscious mind kicked in.
I spent a major chunk of my life in a harp. How could this be? Is this real?
💎💎💎 Krisz Rokk 💎💎💎
Images by Daniela S. aka @wayofaiki
Originally published on the Hive blockchain at @KriszRokk
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