Written as part of a challenge called Friday fictioneers, details at https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com
Suzy looked at Cory. “You know Grammy’s piano has a clown in it! That’s why it plays itself! It crawls out at night..”
“Noooo! There aren’t no clowns in it! I hate clowns!” Cory stomps his foot and slowly bands away from the piano. “It’s in the garage. Noone is in there!”
“It’s comes out at night. Why do you think Grammy has nightlights? So the clown can walk around without tripping on her stuff. He’s been here for years. You’re just to young to know.”
I’m asking Grammy. You’re lying!! Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!” Cory runs out of the room.
Suzy laughs hysterically.
From behind her legs emerge from the keyboard. Stealthy they miss the keys.