1893

The century is turning and you're at a man at the top of your world.
One of the wealthiest most envied men in all Chicago, your lovely wife lives to please you
which suits you because, frankly, you're a domineering self satisfied bastard.

At your country place you're known for your horsemanship and stylish riding attire,
including a fine pair of handcrafted red riding boots.

In town, all the talk is of The Worlds Fair, where you discover a new obsession...
Entering at the main pavilion, you hear this wonderful music! Tracking it to the source,
you find Scott Joplin playing "please Say You Will".

Completely engrossed by his catchy "rags" you acquire every piece of Joplin's sheet music.
And though you can't play a lick, you buy a new piano that sits unplayed the drawing room.

Even as you leap up on your favorite hunter in your red boots, a Joplin rag is playing in your head.
This turns out to be your downfall for "Sir Winston" requires your...undivided attention.
As he flies over a tall hedge, (to a jaunty tune by Joplin) you are catapulted off into a large Oak tree,
snapping your neck in 7 places.

Surgeons can do little to fix you. And, you will never learn play the piano--
you are paralyzed from the neck down.

Your devoted and long suffering wife, angelic as always, tries in every way to make you happy,
but nothing seems to interest you now.

One day, in an out of the way curiosity shop, recalling your love for your red riding boots.
She impulsively selects a red velvet smoking jacket with matching lounging slippers.

When she lays them out in-front of you, for the first time, in a very long time, you smile.
Your man dresses you in the festive outfit as she orders the cooks to make a grand feast
that she lovingly feeds to you bite by bite.

For your enjoyment, she has enlisted a fine young pianist to play Scott Joplin rags just for you.
As you listening to him play, something amazing happens. Your fingers start to move to the music,
not just tapping, but playing each note perfectly.

You ask to be wheeled to the piano. As your hands are placed on the keys, they seem to almost stick.
You make able cords with you left hand, while the fingers of your right hand run around the keys
as if in some sort of feeding frenzy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You play for hours and hours it seems but you cannot be sure...

For when you open your eyes you are all alone in the drawing room.
And, staring down in horror at your fingers, which have grown into the piano keys,

All you can see is red.




Bonzwa
Bar keep of the Dismal Dregs
at Moldy Mansion

 

Horrorscopes ----House Of Oddities