The Rock Shaped Like a Piano
by
David Flynn
One day Tommy found a rock shaped like a piano. He was
digging with a hand rake in the dirt of his garden.
At first the rock looked like a rock. It was only when he
turned it over that he saw it was shaped like a piano. He sat
in the dirt awestruck. The rock was black and
white. It had keys and a lid and feet. The piano
was all one rock, but accurate down to a ledge for the music.
He touched the keys with one finger, but it was just a rock.
Tommy took it to his wife. She lay on the sofa watching a
soap opera.
Look what I found.
She frowned, and held the rock close to her eyes. She looked
puzzled. Where'd you get this thing?
In the garden. Ain't it weird.
Just some trash somebody bought in a store.
She turned back to the television.
Tommy held the rock shaped like a piano in his palm. He felt
hurt. He hated damn piano music, but for the first time in
his life he cried. He felt like a sissy.
She stared up at him with her nose wrinkled.
What the hell are you doing? Get back to that garden.
He held the rock hard and hit her in the head. She screamed,
but he hit and hit. Blood splattered on the floor and the
sofa. She crawled. But he followed her, crying,
hitting her with the rock until she stopped.
His arm kept going up and down like it was mechanical.
He felt happy, then sad, then neutral.
Then he knew what he did. The black and white of the keys was
streaked with red.
Tommy knew his old life was over. The fishing.
He walked down the hall to hold his baby boy.
The boy had a room to himself, and a crib. Tommy looked down
into the blanket. The child snored. His hair was
sweated into clots. He twitched.
Love flooded through Tommy. He hated it. The rock
shaped like a piano went up and down. Tommy felt horror, then
suicidal, then neutral.
Blood dripped from the crib to the rug.
Police came a day later. Tommy sat on the sofa, holding the
rock in his hand. He didn't speak. He smiled.
The rock had played for him all night. It played then, a
pretty tune.
THE END
David Flynn was born in the
textile mill company town of Bemis, TN. His jobs have
included newspaper reporter, magazine editor and university
teacher. He has five degrees and is both a Fulbright Senior
Scholar and a Fulbright Senior Specialist with a recent grant in
Indonesia. His literary publications total more than one
hundred and ninety. David Flynn’s writing blog, where he
posts a new story and poem every month, is at
http://writing-flynn.blogspot.com/ . His web site
is at http://www.davidflynnbooks.com/ .
E-mail:
David
Flynn
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