THE
CLEANER
Nobody
laid a finger on the clavichord after Charlotte’s accident, and when Sir
Richard opened the house to the public the instrument was imprisoned behind
posts and silken ropes. It languished forgotten, yearning for the past glory of
its parlour days.
Each year its soul died a little.
Then Leo
joined the cleaning staff. A cheerful lad, he tended the antiques wielding his
polishing cloths and loving everything equally - until one evening sunset turned
the clavichord to gold.
Glancing
round guiltily, Leo lifted the lid, and as music flowed out into the empty room
the clavichord’s soul sang again.
...................................................................................................
I wish I had room in my home for this beautiful little instrument - there's even space for a glass of wine to one side! This photo comes courtesy of Jan W Fields, and was posted on this blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ as a prompt for Friday Fictioneers - an online group of roughly a hundred writers worldwide who use the weekly prompt to write 100-word stories.
This is not as easy as you might think - follow the blue frog trail from Rochelle's site to read some other stories. After you've commented on mine, of course!
