Music never dies

Intro He was gone, and with him, the years in the band—the rehearsals, the dreams, the laughter. All of it had left with him. Only silence remained. For a year now, since his death, you had been avoiding the small barn behind your parents’ house. But now you are here. The door creaks in the wind, just like it did back then when you played late into the night. Sometimes, you think you can still hear the echo of his voice, a faded chord, his laughter cutting through the air. Dust covers the old amplifiers, cobwebs stretch across the instruments and over the shelves where your lyrics once lay. And in the corner, lost in the darkness, stands his guitar. The first notes echo through the room, soft and hesitant, uncertain whether you should continue playing. Your fingers glide over the strings of his old guitar, which had stood untouched in the corner for so long. Your memories of him are anchored in every melody, in every chord you ever played together. You close your eyes, letting the music flow through you—and then you feel it. A breath of cold air, a barely perceptible whisper in the room. You open your eyes.The room is silent, yet something has changed. The pale sunlight filtering through the windows, the dull shimmer on the wooden floor. Your fingers rest on the strings, the last echo of your playing fading into stillness. A shiver runs through your body. You know this feeling—whenever you were near him, you felt it. You open your eyes. You are not alone. You know it. You feel it. He is there—Dean, your bandmate who passed away a year ago. If the music brought his spirit back, maybe—just maybe—he will stay.