SPS:Teaser 1

Despite the equipment in our family being for our livelihood, my father treats them very casually; Be it trumpets, turntables or DVD players, he would break them all. When I was young, not many would buy toys for me, so I would often take the equipment my father broke apart, and slowly learned how to repair and put them together; Now it became half a hobby.

Due to my hobby, I would take the train down to this "Department store that grants your wish"[junkyard that he found and gave it this name] by the sea every two or three months, to collect some stuff or parts. Walking several rounds around this junkyard makes me feel as though I am the only surviving person on Earth, it feels quite good.

But...... This day, I am not the only one at the junkyard.

Walking past the forest into the valley, when I just got to see the hill where fridges and discarded cars collate and endure the days of sunshine and rain, I surprisingly heard the sounds of a piano.

I thought that I was mistaken at first, but when I walked out of the forest and saw the hill of junk right before my eyes, I realized that I was not just hearing a piano. On the low chord that is calm as the sea's surface, bassoon..... Followed by the sounds of a recorder slowly spread over.

Even though I don't know what tune this is, but I recall having heard it before. Probably------ from France in the 19th Century------ a Piano sonata. But why would I hear it here?

I climbed to the top of a discarded car, and started climbing this rubbish mountain; The melody of the piano switched to something like a march.At first I thought that it might be a certain radio still having batteries, thus giving off the piano sounds, but this thought disappeared without a trace almost instantly. The width of the sound is different, that is definitely the sound of a an instrument being played live.

After I climbed to the top of the hill, I looked towards to depression at the centre of the junkyard------ That scene shocked me so much that I held my breath.

A big sized platform piano was buried amidst cabinets, ruined beds and cupboards, its cover was shining with black light as if it is wet, like a bird spreading its wings to take flight. On the other side of the cover swaying with the soft piano sounds was a head with maroon colored hair.

It is a girl.

That girl sat before the slightly slanted keyboard, her long eyelashes lying a little low, her eyes focused at her hands. Her soft yet piercing piano sounds like raindrops near the end of winter, jumped off the piano drop by drop.

I seem to have some impression of her face.

Serious yet awfully white, a face that does not seem to exist in reality, so beautiful that people are unable to take their eyes off her; that maroon colored hair, is like amber melting under the sunlight.

I have seen her before, but...... How would I have?

Name------ Can't recall. The tune she is playing------- Cant remember either.

There should not be anyone else here, all that is giving off sounds would be the piano and the seawaves coming past the woords, why------ am I able to hear an orchestra playing along?

I suddenly realized that the fridge beneath my feet is always vibrating along the deep piano sounds that she plays so strongly, and giving off very soft sounds; Not only that, the bicycle buried in the debris, the rusted metal basin, the damaged LCD monitor etc, are all resonating to her piano music.

The abandoned objects buried in the valley are singing.

That echo dug up the orchestra tune that is lingering in my memories.

Even though it is auditory hallucination------ This feels too real.

I do know this tune, but...... Just which one is it?

Why------ does it touch my heart so?

The allegro march as if hurried steps flowing into the river mouth before dawn break, the vast and bare largo music. Countless small thin bubbles of musical symbols rising to the surface from the bottom of the ocean, and slowly spreads out. Following that, the orchestra music comes from afar, and this time it would steadily last------

But the music suddenly stopped.

I held my breathe, like a barnacle pasted tightly on the top of the rubbish hill, and looked down at the piano.

The girl stopped playing the piano, and used a very serious stare to stare at me.

The orchestral hallucination and lingering sounds of the piano, even the sounds of wind breezing through the tips of the trees all disappeared, I almost felt as though the end of the world has arrived.

"......How long have you been standing there?"