It was already two minutes after twelve. She continued hurting herself until she realized that her face is already turning into a tomato and she decided to stop doubting her senses. Finally, she succeed in convincing herself that what was in her front is nothing but a real piano. But in spite of attaining contentment upon proving that it was not part of her illusions, her curiosity even reached its highest level regarding the existence of that piano in the middle of that “no comment” jungle somewhere in Baguio City.

Confusion almost killed her. Yes, she is a UPan, a certified University Scholar and a Philo freak yet she was not capable of philosophizing on how a piano got there. Then she started to have sleepless nights and whenever they occur, she walked like a zombie in pink (since she is a certified pihkaholic) towards the “no comment” jungle which is just a few steps away from her hell-like dormitory. Unfortunately, after weeks of visiting the creepy place and still seeing the piano, she was not able to find concrete answers.

On another sleepless night, she decided (again!) to walk like a zombie towards the location of that piano. As she stepped out her room, she heard a melody which almost made her heart melt. And suddenly, her tears no longer resisted the gravity. She ran closer to the mysterious place while the lyrics of her favorite song registered clearer on her mind, and the music became louder.

“Bad Spirits! Stop fooling me!”

“Bad spirits? Huh?”

“What are you doing here, my fellow dorm mates?”

“BC 130. Remember? Our deadline will be next week. And we have decided to make our own music video of Nina’s Piano in the dark.”

Today was different. Sure she was with her father, but he couldn’t play Debussy. Not anymore. She hurriedly went to the piano, dusting it off, as if the years went away with the dust. Checking the keys, she was surprised to find them in tune, except for the one black key. It was a sound that made her cringe. Memories flooded her head, tearing her apart. She turned swiftly and headed towards the door grabbing the car keys thinking how ridiculous it was to do what she was about to do. She stopped short of the handle and composed herself, recalling her objective.

Sophie unloaded the piano haphazardly, wanting to get this over with. It was a few minutes before six, the sun slowly moving to sleep, setting with a yawn. She went to get her father from the passenger seat, her eyes moist and fingers trembling as she opened the door. Gently lifting her father, she slowly walked to the piano hoping to end it tonight. She settled her father at the piano. Then she heard it. She couldn’t believe her ears but the notes were perfect. The sun has completely disappeared and the horizon was without a single star. Only the moon. Only the full, solitary moon. She was a kid again, listening to her father play Claire De Lune, her eyes moist and full of emotion.

The past few weeks were dreadful, she had to sell a lot of her fathers property but hearing her father play again, even in her head, was more than enough. She drove off into the night, leaving the piano in the middle of the jungle, leaving the memory of her father playing for the world. Now she could move on with the thought that she left her father doing what he’s been doing all his life. She opened her window and could hear the music. She turned to the passenger seat and looked at the urn. It was only the vessel of her father she now has to bury. Her daddy is out there, playing for the world.

As she was taking a shower one hot day, it hit her. She needed to find her melody. She needed to find the music that would be the definition of her. She always knew how to play the guitar but that wasn’t the instrument for her. A guitar is too rough for her. It was too obvious and self-indulgent. Ever since she could remember she always wanted to learn how to play the piano but never got to because she was too afraid. She was afraid that learning to play the piano might consume her. Now is the time to be brave. Now is the time to confront the piano.

She needed a place where she could be alone with her piano. The first place she tried was at the rooftop of the building she is living in but the city was too noisy and it was mocking her. The city was waiting for her fail. And then she tried the beach, again it was too noisy for her. The sound of the sea crashing on the rocks was too much for her to bear. The sea doubted her like the small voices in her head.

She was headed home when she saw the place. It was perfect. Every tree that was standing is like the strings on her piano. The leaves of the trees would consume any noise that would defile her mind. She started playing the piano. At first it didn’t make any sense, but she studied every note and before long she was able to get it. In time she was able to find her melody. And in return to the place where she found her melody she offered her piano. It wasn’t long until people discovered the piano. She never spoke a word that that was her piano. She figured it would be much better if people assume that a fairy or any other paranormal being left the piano than a girl just looking for her melody.

By the time Johann was making his way from the stage to the john, Lance stood in his way and blew a screen of smoke before his eyes. “I’d love to have those hands run across my sweaty back tonight,” Lance insisted with a hoarse tone on his deep voice. “Excuse me?!” Johann almost shouted, fingers fidgeting as if waiting to roll into a tight fist. Lance leaned over to Johann’s ears and licked it up and down; the potency of the poison has enveloped his veins. Then it came swiftly.

For a while, Lance wailed then moaned faintly as he was picking himself up from the moist and dusty floor. “The man has firm hands,” Lance said to himself as he saw the befouled pianist walking straight through the open doors of the bar.

“Are you alright, sir?” the manager asked him. “Just a lovely scratch on my jaws and nothing more.” “Well,” the manager continued, forehead sweating and knees slightly jerking, “Johann has had that temper ever since his partner, Delgado, left him for good. Can I do anything for you?”

“His piano looks like a fine replica of Elton’s.”

“We call him our own version of Elton John minus the fancy hairdress and the neon trench coats.”

“Do you accept personal checks, credit card, or cash?” Lance asked the manager as his left hand went into his Louis Vuitton.

***

Somewhere in the middle of a forest, a small two-floor house stood against the trees and their shadows just before the break of dawn. Just outside the lot, the engine of a white Porsche Cayman was lifeless. Between the house and the car, Lance sat in front of a red piano.

In a futile attempt to recreate the music he heard three hours ago, he opened a bottle of rhum and drank his life away.

Just like I promised. One week each month for the past 10 years I have been coming here, building it, piece by piece. Hah, I had to learn to tune it myself. Me! And I was tone-deaf when we met. Had to build a work shed first to make sure it wasn’t exposed. Then I tore it down and hauled the debris out of here last week so it’d be ready for you. Bought this land too. See the chair? It’s just the right height for you. Go on…play for me.

You have learned how to play, darling, right?

————————————————————————–
(100 words including the title)

“Ebony and Ivory
In the jungle under the canopy
If Joc-joc can play all of us like keyboards
Oh Lord, why not me?

We all know
Politicians are the same wherever you go
There is dumb and bad
In everyone, we learn to leave,
We yearn to give the finger
So what I did to survive is just run and hide…”

The Russian genius, along with everything in his house got sucked into the wormhole. His piano and its chair ended up in the middle of a Philippine jungle. The Russian genius found himsef in bed with Sarah Palin in Alaska.

Once, when he was twelve, he thought he saw a beam of light flashing through his bedroom window. The vision of flashing light continued for the next seven days. He interpreted it as a sign that God could be speaking to him. He was strumming a beat-up guitar then. He remembered John Lennon’s dream of an old man in a flaming pie, prophesying, “You will be known as Beetles, but change the second “e” to “a” so you’d be cooler”. Or something like that.

Later, he realized that the flashing light came from the welding machine at a construction site near their apartment house. Well, it was one of those things.
“Wait, I have a better idea. Why don’t we just make a soft core porn-inspired MTV about our song? We’ll get that sexy girl Ria who posed for FMH and Barako Magazine to be our lead character. You remember Aling Aning, that landlady from college? She’s the aunt of a friend of a classmate of a former girlfriend of mine, who is actually a cousin of Ria . Maybe they can help us and stuff. ” (The song is titled “Out in the Woods”). The other four band mates scratched their heads. Generally their response was “Huh? Okay. Rock and roll!” “Let’s have some leather couch, an albino python and some midgets as extras”, added Mr. lead singer.
The production crew, however were not exactly amused. They spent twenty agonizing days trying to find that location in the middle of a snake infested jungle in Quezon. Mostly, they have to coordinate with the AFP so as to make sure that they are not intruding within the territory of the NPAs. They were. It’s just that the NPAs thought they were a bunch of lunatics and didn’t bother with them.
Another twelve days to find an upright Steinway and Sons, which is quite rare as they built mostly baby and concert grands. And Mr. lead singer wanted it in…pearlescent tangerine. A week to hire an elf truck to transport the dang piano.
And to top it all off, they have yet to receive their checks.
The director, a known “raketero” is still somewhere in Bukidnon wrapping up a corned beef ad. “I’m flying in tomorrow,” he says. That’s what he said last week. His other works include an ad for a memorial service company, with a line that says “your death is our life”.
His assistant director has been trying to figure out what to do for the past five days.
He’s trying.

A mutiny.
A decision.
This is crap, said everyone.
They left, all of them.

The five band members were booked in a local hotel, waiting to be fetched for the day’s shoot.

The dang piano is too heavy to be carried.