The little girl, or rather, what was once a little girl, timidly approached, a yellowed songbook in her outstretched hands. She looked up at Miss Eliza, who nodded in reassurance.

Jacob slowly reached out, his hand trembling, took the book and propped it on the decrepit piano. The little girl backed away, and he could almost detect a smile, though it was impossible to tell if a corpse was smiling.

Jacob turned to the piano, leafed to a bookmarked page and positioned his fingers over the dusty keys. He hesitated for a moment, still unsure. Miss Eliza rested a supportive hand on his shoulder, which was strangely comforting, despite the hand resembling that of a mummy.

Jacob took a deep breathe and gently laid his fingers on the keys. The townsfolk, who had gathered behind him, leaned forward in silent anticipation.

And he began to play…

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