The Magic Piano

By Mickey Ingram

This is a fantasy story of a magic piano that chooses individuals who excel in music but who may not have any talents in playing the piano. It is ideal for young adults who are fifteen years old and older. Older and elderly adults will also enjoy these stories. The piano chooses individuals who have the capacity to assist other people to excel in their lives. Adventure, love, action, and comedy are interpreted throughout the stories. The stories are short, therefore skipping a lot of details that are mundane and nonessential. Hopefully, the reader will enjoy the stories as well as the writer who wrote them. Readers who read these stories will find occasions to learn something about life. Enjoy, Enjoy, Enjoy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 9, 2024
• ISBN: 9798350944082

Book preview

Chapter One

THE DEAD END

My buddies and I were playing touch football under the streetlights one fall evening. The night was cool, and the wind gently whistled around our ears. Playing under the lights was something special—more fun at night than during the day. We were giddy like petite schoolboys in the second grade. It gave us a sense of authority even though our parents knew where we were. We’re in control of the street, and it’s our territory. There were six players, three on each side. Adel, that’s me, JJ; my best friend, Shawn, who plays on the football team, Blair; he lives on the next block, William; he plays on the school football team too. He’s a big man and an offensive lineman. Kenneth lives next door to me, and he’s white.

The game of touch football is fun. A player must touch the ball carrier with both hands. Play is dead at the spot of the two-handed touch. Everything else in the rules is the same as competitive football. Of course, playing in the streets has its moments, especially when cars pass through. The curb is the sideline, and the chosen light posts are the goal lines. Most of the time, we play with actual footballs. Sometimes, we would have to use a rubber ball or a miniature football. On sweltering, muggy nights, we play with water balloons. All of us must be gentle so as not to burst the balloons. When one busts, it is hilarious.

The dead-end is between a manufacturing company and a single two-family flat. The railroad tracks are at one end, and the other is our street of modest homes. We play in the dead-end when traffic is heavy. The flat close to the dead-end is rumored to be a man who had been in prison for a long time. No one has ever seen him outside of his house. Although it is a scary place, we feel safe in numbers. That night, we were having so much fun using a rubber ball, hollering, laughing, and making so much noise that the game had to be stopped because JJ’s mom came out and told us we had homework to do. Sadly, we called it a night.

The following day, I stopped by JJ’s, and we always walked to school together. He lived in a two-family flat down the same street upstairs with two sisters and one brother. I skipped up the long flight of stairs two at a time. I knocked on the door. Dorothy, JJ’s oldest sister, answered the door.

Dorothy graduated from our high school three years ago, attending the nearby junior college. She’s a tall, slender, pretty woman, about 21 years old, studying to be a nurse. Most of the time, she would study at the dining room table for hours. The dining room table was called the Brain Table. It is long, almost as long as a conference table. All the kids in the family studied at this table, even though I studied there sometimes, too. When you study there, no one talks. One of the parents would pass through the dining room periodically to ensure we were studying.

JJ will be ready in a few minutes, Adel. Have a seat in the living room. I was told as I entered the room.

That was the voice of Mrs. Bottomly. Her first name was Joyce. The parents of all the kids in the neighborhood were called Mrs. or Mister. In replies, yes, no ma’am, or yes, no sir.

I proceeded to the living room, and Mrs. Bottomly was sitting on the floor with her back to me, mending a dress. I wondered why she was sitting on the floor. She turned around with a concerned look on her face and said.

You boys were making a lot of noise last night, and it was almost nine o’clock. You didn’t have any homework? she asked.

No, ma’am, with downcasted eyes.

Well, JJ had homework, and that’s why he’s late this morning.

Sorry, Miss Bottomly, it won’t happen again.

Mrs. Bottomly returned to her sewing, and I sat feeling pretty stupid. Mrs. Bottomly was good to me and everyone else in the neighborhood. She was the kind of person you would want to remain on the good side of her. Her generosity was the main character we all respected. It was great to be her friend. Everyone was her friend.

I sat down across the piano. It was the most beautiful piano I have ever seen. It stood tall against the wall with a couple of music books in front. The dark natural wood glistened; the smoothness of the wood with no blemishes seemed to beckon me. On each leg of the piano were carved arms with hands balancing the piano. I noticed the carved hands; they appeared natural, fingers long, slender, and powerful. I must have seen this piano hundreds of times whenever I visited JJ, but I was dumbfounded today. The beauty of this piano had me spellbound. I was staring at the piano; I saw a flash from it. That’s when my mouth fell open. I could not believe my eyes. The sparkle was subtle yet very noticeable. I looked around to see if anyone else