Charlie tucked me in at the usual bedtime that night.

“Will you teach me how to play a song tomorrow?” I asked, just before Charlie flicked off the lights.

“We’ll have to learn a piece together”, Charlie said sincerely. “I never made it much further than playing the right hand part of ‘Chop Sticks’.”

“You really don’t know how to play? I thought you knew everything!”

“Everyone has their limits, but that doesn’t mean we can’t constantly push ourselves to do more, George. Maybe we can look into piano lessons if you decide it’s something you wish to go after. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Charlie flicked off the lights. “Rest well and dream beautifully, George.” The door shut and I drifted quickly to sleep.

I’ve had this dream before. It was more vivid this time than the last. I’m struggling on my back on the floor. It’s dark. The kind of dark where you can barely see your hand in front of your own face even after being in the room for more than five minutes. A piano bench is pinning me from above. I try with all my strength to push it off but I can’t. A red light flicks on. I looked to my left to see the piano with keys curling up like a cat sharpening it’s claws on the carpet. I close my eyes tightly and open them again.  The bench begins to drag me towards the piano keys that are now grinning back at me like sharp teeth in a awaiting hungry mouth. The hood flings open and slams shut with a loud rhythmic thuds. I kick my legs and try to scream, but all that comes from my mouth is the sound of fingernails scraping across piano strings. Traditionally this is the moment of the dream where I’m suppose to wake up to a silent house. It’s always a relief because I wake up right before the demonic piano takes its first bite from toes. It never gets easier. This time when I was thrown awake the house wasn’t silent….

That first night music woke me. I opened my eyes to a waxing crescent moon hitting me in the face through the bedroom window. I started to pull the cream colored covers over my head as I rolled over on my side to fall back asleep, but the music called louder. My light blue colored footed pajamas were my only protection as I crawled out of bed and peaked my head out my bedroom door. The faint sound of finger nails scraping across the open piano strings lingered my ears. This sound was followed by the distinct beginning of Debussy’s “Claire de Lune” being played flawlessly. I closed my eyes for a moment and imagined that the music had lifted me out of bed and floated me down the hall towards the the basement steps. In reality, I dragged myself down the hall and no matter how softly I tipped toed in the rubber griped toes of my pajamas, the floorboards seem to scream underfoot as I tried to muffle their tiny voices by stuffing my toes gingerly between the cracks.

I made my way down the dark hall, through the kitchen, and to the top of the basement stairs. It seemed like it took hours, but it was only a few moments.

An eerie crimson glow crawled up the green asbestos tiled steps and met me at the tip of my nose when I made it to the mouth of the basement. The whole scene reminded me of something from one of uncle Charlie’s Zombie flicks. You know, just before the unnamed character has his brains ripped to shreds and arms torn off like a careless bully ripping the wings off a butterfly. Most kids my age were afraid of the dark. I was no different, but part of me enjoyed the feeling of my heart about to jump from my chest. With each step I took deeper towards whatever was making the piano sing, I tried to imagine what sort of gruesome creature was waiting for me at the belly of the maze of boxes. I began to imagined it’s eight long tentacles that stretched out from its torso, it’s suction cups dancing over the keys and strings. It had the long snout of a pig and the eyes of a muskrat that turning towards me as I approached. I imagined smoke billowing out from inside the mouth of the piano like a waterfall of fog that lingered on the floor like a river of smog. The beast hovered in mid air as it played. Next I imagined that maybe it had the head of a Condor, the legs of a man, and arms and claws of a dragon. It’s dark scaly wings spread wide creating an impenetrable wall around the instrument that was impossible to penetrate. Or maybe, I thought, the beast was more a human form with the head of a bull donning horns that reached up towards the sky. The tips stretching into points so sharp they’d scrape across the surface of a diamond; a minotaur guarding the center of my uncle’s labyrinth-like athenaeum.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that “I’m safe. The beast can’t hurt me. After all, I’m the main Character in this story.” As I stick close to the wall with my fingers curled tightly around the banister I felt the smooth wood as it rans under the palm of my hand with each step down I took closer. I imagined the stairwell walls as if they were a cave and I’m about to traverse it’s many caverns. It’s dark, I can barely see, but as I grow closer to the bottom step there is a light that shines through the many books and boxes coming from the dead center of everything. I know that if I go in alone, I wont know how to find my way out again.

Grabbing an orange coiled extension cord, I begin my journey towards the center of the labyrinth letting the cord trail behind me recording each footstep.