"I actually do live in an apartment which is 904 North Building. I also do actually play the piano
and have an excellent digital piano in my suite. Furthermore, several years ago, a young lady actually jumped to her death from the ninth floor of my building. I didn't live here then and I don't know if it was from my suite or not and I really don't care to find out. So you can see that this
fantasy tale has some factual basis. (Perhaps too much so)."
With that tantalizing introduction, Dick Koss presents;
A paranormal tale in verse
.....by Richard Koss
"Get on with your life,"
"Got one on the ninth floor
So I moved to 904 North
I played, I wrote, I drank - alone.
In the middle of a winter night
The balcony door was open wide
Other nights I heard the rapping,
Old man Schatt was eighty plus
But I did, one September night,
"That's me," I admitted,
"Then you've heard of the sin
His story made me numb
I returned to my ninth floor suite
The old man said it happened after
A new obsession gripped me tightly
I longed to know just how and why.
The librarian was very kind.
The newspaper stories were brief
They wrote of her musical fame
As the winter months got colder,
Drinking no longer left me sedated
Christmas found me quite a lonely man.
The hail and wind became much stronger
I closed the door, the wind was still,
To this very day,
As if commanded, it obeyed
The demo tape I chose to leave in
It was melodic, yet technical,
A sonata in C sharp,
Then the darkness was gone
Slept well that night at last,
Now I knew it wasn't a dream
I waited for her to play again -
As it began, I knew she'd repeat
Every night after that,
Before her final vignette,
That was her final curtain.
See her picture over there?
Or am I a man whom you think of
***
In 904, the phone kept ringing
Ex-wife:
ed sez: Richard (Dick) Koss gives us a bit of background for his poem, ‘904 North'
said my second wife.
So I looked for a place to stay
on this side of town, that wasn't run down,
and not too far away.
and I'll soon have one on four,
if you wait a week or two."
Now I'm not fond of heights, don't even like kites,
but this place looked spotless and new.
and with me brought forth
my piano, my stuff, and my Sony.
Here I was once again, all alone in my den,
an exile from sweet matrimony.
Played that is, when I wasn't stoned.
Loved the bite of gin and vermouth
and with each swallow, I'd often wallow
in the magic memories of my youth.
a sound I heard filled me with fright.
I heard a rap like - " let me in."
At my balcony door? Here on the ninth floor?
Probably just this lousy gin.
I laughed myself to sleep
but slumber wouldn't keep.
I woke up in a freezing room.
First I'm shivering, then I'm quivering.
It felt like I was in a tomb.
as if by some invisible tide,
letting in the snow and bitter cold.
I know I locked that door. Did it just before, or…
did I? Damn! I must be getting old.
sometimes just a gentle tapping
but the door was locked - made sure of that.
At first I came to doubt it, then I just forgot about it.
That is, until I met old Mr. Schatt.
and he was quite a feisty cuss,
that former superintendent here.
"Don't get too close, you'll get a dose,"
as he was apt to bend your ear.
came in higher than a kite,
when he met me at the lobby door.
"I can always tell a piano playing fella
who lives up on the ninth floor."
now feeling committed.
His eyes followed me like a hound.
"You in suite 904?" I knew there was more
so I quietly sat myself down.
of sweet Jenny Lynn,
she lived in 904 you know."
My face went blank and my heart sank
as he then began his tale of woe.
and it was after midnight some,
when he left me in the lobby all alone.
Shaken by his tale, I began to feel frail
as an eerie chill went through my every bone.
and from my balcony, began a retreat
as I stood by the fragile railing.
It was here Jenny Lynn, so tormented within,
that night, put an end to her ailing.
a storm that shook every rafter
during the Winter of seventy-seven.
"Like an angel she played and to God I prayed,
please don't keep her from heaven."
as I thought about her nightly
in those autumn weeks that followed.
I ceased the visits to my retreat.
Wouldn't desecrate it with my feet,
for now I felt that ground was hallowed.
How much was truth? How much a lie?
But there was no one to tell me more.
If her picture and story had some hint of glory,
I might at last distinguish truth from lore.
I copied all that we could find
in hope of discovering the truth.
Read it all three times or four, there on my floor
with my pitcher of gin and vermouth.
and I felt cheated, as if some thief
had robbed me of her legacy.
She was just twenty-five, so young and alive,
quite pretty, it was plain to see.
but hinted her family name
had been cursed by a troubled history.
A young protegée, well on her way,
who's death remained a mystery.
I felt so tired, much older,
distraught, unable to play or write.
Now the rapping resumed and I felt consumed,
as I fought against each sleepless night.
and I now became someone I hated.
I tried reading and writing in bed.
But each futile attempt to relieve self-contempt,
left me mourning her picture instead.
My life in disarray, I had no plan.
Couldn't even open my mail.
Then came a storm in true Winter form,
attacking my door with hail.
and when I couldn't bear it any longer,
I angrily opened my balcony door.
No hailing, no snowing, just a strong wind blowing.
A wind which knocked me to the floor.
and I stood silent as an icy chill
remained within the room.
The power went out, there was something about.
In the dark, I felt a presence loom.
what happened I'll say
was far beyond my knowing.
There on the panel of my digital piano,
the tiny red lights were glowing.
and I listened as it played
so sweet and loud and clear.
An electrical force, that's it, of course!
The demo tape is what I hear.
played Chopin, Liszt, and even
the great Rachmaninoff.
I remembered each gem, it was not one of them.
And outside all the lights were off.
a rich, haunting spectacle -
an orgy of listening pleasure.
This was truly a test, for only the best
would attempt this challenging treasure.
I thought in the dark,
as it played to its conclusion.
In silence, content, I then savored the scent
of this beautiful, strange intrusion.
as the night lamp came on
and I saw the city lights returning.
As I stood out there in the cold fresh air,
a calmness now covered my yearning.
but woke up pretty fast
To a voice on my answering machine.
"Please don't play after ten, must I ask you again?"
It was only my neighbor, Eileen.
or the inspirational scheme
of a lonely man going mad.
My newfound refrain, would I hear it again?
All at once I felt quite sad.
became so eager that now and then
I slept on my living room floor.
Then one night while napping, I heard the rapping
so I got up and opened the door.
those notes, so brilliant, so sweet,
with each magnificent chord.
With her spirit exploding, at last was unfolding,
true genius, no longer ignored.
half awake I sat,
waiting for her to begin.
For her music I prayed, and once more she played
just for me, my Jenny Lynn.
I inserted a blank cassette,
in hope of recording my treasure.
When I searched for sound, not a thing could be found.
No music, not even a measure.
Of that I'm quite certain,
though I'd love to hear her play once more.
I've never learned why she returned,
perhaps it's me she's waiting for.
You wouldn't think she had a care.
There's nothing more that I can say
but before you go, I'd like to know
that you believe I heard her play.
as right on the brink of …
becoming a hopeless mental case?
No matter my friend, all things must end.
It's time for me to leave this place.
as the paramedics put the covered,
crushed and broken body in the van.
Some women sobbed softly, while others
continued their chatter, but among the latter,
there remained one silent old man.
but the answering machine would soon intervene
once again, with its final singing.
Answering Machine Message
"Sorry I can't take your call,
I know it's aggravating.
Don't really know when we'll talk again,
‘cause Jenny Lynn is waiting."
Beep…..!!!
"You know I'm really tired of all these calls.
Where in God's name have you been?
You live alone but you're never home.
And just who the hell is Jenny Lynn?"