Contest #9: Writing challenge

[Taniaetc]

I took Reaper's advice, and now rewriting/rephrasing/whatever my story...
Here anyways.

Yeah, quite long, once again. Die reading it (Click to View)

The cry of a single raven broke the silence of the night. The light of the moon threw nightmarish shadows, one of them being close to a human shape. For a few seconds the shadow laid on the wet grass of a park, then he began to move towards an old Victorian estate. As the raven cried a second time, the head of the shadow turned around and finally light fell onto the face of the man the shadow was belonging to. It was the face of an old man who had already seen too much in his life, but his eyes still radiated power and a strong will.
After some more seconds he came to the great wooden door and took out a pack of picklocks. He tried the first one, but it didn't fit. A silent curse escaped from his mouth. Hectically he took out the next one and almost dropped it.
'Stay calm' he told himself. 'There is no need to rush.'
Finally he managed to open the lock. He slowly moved the door. With a long and painful scream it swung open. He was there. Just one last step to go...
The door was left open to bring light. He sighed as he watched his family’s old, enormous mansion. A pitch-black carpet was visible. A dusty picture of the old man’s family with their piano on the back was hanging on the wall. Those were the only things fashioning this house. There were many empty spaces. The old man’s family had moved without him, but fortunately they left a picture and their piano to show their love and attention. Slowly he walked in and then got close to the picture.
‘Years and years have passed, and now I’ve my sweetie old piano back,’ he whispered to himself while his hands were busy wiping out the dust.
The old man’s name was Philippe. While looking at the picture, his past slowly but steadily came back to him. When he was young, his father used to teach him how to play the piano. He often hid in the garden or elsewhere safe to ‘delay’ his weekly piano lesson, but instead of delaying it, the hiding made the lesson even less entertaining and more boring. To his amazement, as he remembered his past, his father never gave up teaching him, showing that Philippe could be like him, a well-known pianist.
Yes, I have learned that my future would be like this. Father, I will show you that I could be like you too, he thought. Then he took an old, plain white clothing used to clean the piano, now still lying in its usual place, a table nearby. The old clothing was never replaced, only carefully washed and gently cleaned, making it the only fabric able to delicately touch the black, large instrument to wipe out its dust and clean it up.
‘It has been a long time already, isn’t it?’ Philippe told the piano. A few minutes later he finished cleaning his family’s, or now his most cherished treasure. It had been a long time since he left his home to study architecture, which was now not interest him anymore. It seemed that music is in his blood, and not anything else. He started getting interested in constructing when he saw builders building another mansion next to his family’s. They were working together, one painting, one bringing bricks when others do what they could. Even the neighbours helped if they were idle. Philippe helped too while sneaking out from his music lesson.
‘I thought constructing was my interest, but no,’ he laughed nervously. Then he sat on a chair in front of the piano.
‘My place and future is you, my precious treasure.’ He took a music book filled with basic musical notes to complex ones. Then he opened the book, hands wiping the dust out. It seemed that everything in the mansion were dirty with dust except for the old fabric. It’s always clean, or is it cleaned by someone recently visiting or staying here? He thought. But nobody entered this mansion anymore. Father gave the keys to me. He said that he never trusted anyone else to look after this house.
‘Why hello!’ a voice greeted, breaking the peaceful silence he was having. An old yet mysterious man suddenly entered Philippe’s mansion. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a black tie.
‘Who are you?’ replied Philippe, confusion and fear all mixed up on his face.
‘I am the estate’s new owner. Who are you to dare trespass this mansion?’ The man’s face was almost blank, but Philippe could recognise him.
‘Don’t you remember? I’m the owner’s son. My family left a long time ago, and I was given this mansion to stay in,’ he blurted out.
‘Oh. I’m sorry. Shame on myself I do not remember my own friend. I’m just checking around,’ he laughed as he walked in.
‘So why did you drop out from your study?’ he continued.
‘I’m no longer interested in construction. My life depends on this,’ Philippe stood and touched his old piano.
‘It’s good to have it back isn’t it? I need your help.’ Thomas, the estate’s new owner said. His eyes felt sore, but he felt compelled to see his old friend.
‘Really? You’d ask me for help? That would be a great honour.’
‘Yes. And by doing that, I could help you of becoming a great pianist too,’ offered Thomas.
‘But how?’
‘Firstly you can practice playing music for me to prove that you’re good enough. Then I’ll set up a gathering at the park tomorrow. The guests are this estate’s buyers. They are looking for a peaceful and quiet location like here. If you play nice, they would approve and buy the houses. They would come to your mansion every month and listen to your music. Good deal? I get the money, you get your skill back,’ he explained. Philippe thought for a while, and then nodded in agreement. He sat back and started playing ‘Greensleeves’.
‘Hmm, hmm, it’s a quite relaxing music. I love that. They would be happy about this,’ laughed Thomas approvingly, smiling at his best friend.
‘Do you have some more? Soothing music would throw off this nightmarish night,’ he said. Philippe turned the music book’s page, now showing ‘Canon’. He stopped for a while and then gently landed his fingers on the ivory keys, eyes still focusing on the page. As he played, Thomas sometimes closed his eyes, imagining how his guests would say about this.
‘I’ll leave you alone to practice. See you tomorrow, meet me at the park. There’ll be a piano placed there, so the guests won’t get in your house,’ he walked out and waved goodbye to his friend. Philippe waved back and then practiced until he felt drowsy. As he walked to his bedroom he wondered what would happen next, hoping that he would be like his father.
He managed to sleep for a few hours. It was morning now. Then he walked outside to the park. The sun was shining dimly, radiating hope that he would achieve his goal.
‘Welcome, Phil! Come! Let me introduce you to the others,’ Thomas greeted. Philippe wanted to smile, but something in his voice made it impossible to.
‘My fellow guests, this is Philippe. He is a pianist who is doing quite well. He’d play monthly for us,’ he announced when the guests were gathering near him.
‘And today, he will play quite nice music for us.’ Phil walked to the new instrument, almost identical to his, and sat on the seat next to it. He placed his fingers on the keys, barely remembering the musical notes. He could barely remember them, but his strong will forced him to, and finally he started to play ‘Fur Elise’ as the audience sat. He managed to remember all of the notes. Applauses broke the silence after he finished. Then he played ‘Canon’ in a soft, slow pace.
‘This would be a great day to me. Everyone smiled, making me content. Dad, now I’ve proven that I worth to be a musician,’ he told himself as he continued to concentrate.

How's that? Better?
Oh, forgot to state that beginning 1 is 195 words long. My story's 1368 (with beginning) words which sucks. WHY DO I WRITE TOO LONG?!
And btw, please read it. Please guys! I wanna be a great writer!