Jonkyl Hyll and his new wife, Bryndyl, were honeymooning on Earth. They had been driving all day and it was getting late as they drove along the deserted highway in their rented hover-car, on the way to their next stop; the fabled city of Transylvania.

The stormy weather was getting worse. Jonkyl could barely see the end of the vehicle in the down pour. Suddenly lightening lit the sky. Its unexpected appearance startled him causing him to jam his suction-cups on the steering pad. The car careened around sideways! Jonkyl attempted to regain control, but, over-correcting, the hover-car swerved back and forth across the road and finally smashed into a boulder.

Slowly, Jonkyl came back to conciousness and shook his head trying to clear his blurred vision. His middle eye was filled with blood causing him to see double the salty taste of blood to;d him one of his gill slots had been torn. Dazed, he looked over at the passenger seat where his new wife lay unconscious, The gash on her forehead was bleeding profusely covering her beautiful purple face in crimson.

He immediately opened the first aid kit, that all rentals were required to carry,Sprayed the wound with a clotting agent and wrapped a bandage around her head; trying to stop the bleeding. He flipped the emergency beacon switch, but nothing happened; the control panel was black. “By the nebulas,” he cursed. “That’s what I get for renting the cheapest I can find!” He tried to restart the little hover-car with the same result. The panel remained black. Something had shorted out leaving them with no power.

He had no choice but to carry his bride through the terrible storm, in search of the nearest comunication source. He carefully picked her up, wrapping his two longer arms around her and began to slosh, through the flipper deep water, down the road.

After what seemed a life time, he saw a light in the distance. He headed towards it, hoping he was in time to save his wife. The light was coming from and ancient looking Victorian style house. He had seen holgraphic images of them in some of the Earth travel files. They were suppose to be made of wood. This one looked like it belonged in a museum or one of those ancient horror movies he had read about.

He approached the door. With one of his free tenicles he announced his presence with one of the large brass door knockers. After a minute or two, a small, decriped looking, hunchbacked Dwarf opened the door. Jonkyl burst through the doorway, almost knocking the little fellow down, and began to babble, "Hello, my name is Jonkyl Hyll, and this is my wife, Bryndyl. We've been in a terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously injured. Can I please use your vid screen? "
"I'm sorry, sir" replied the little hunchback, "we have no comunication divices. But my master, he is a doctor. Come he will save your wife." Jonkyl carried his wife further into antique building, relieved he had found medical help and glad to be out of the burning rain.

An elegant looking old man seemed to float down the stairs. "I'm afraid my assistant may have misled you," he announced with a thick melodic accent. " I’m not a medical doctor. I’m a scientist.” Seeing the condition of the young couple, he took pity on them. “However, we are miles from the nearest medical facility, and I’ve had some medical training. Come, I will see what I can do. Igor, bring them to the laboratory."

Igor took Bryndyl from Jonkyl’s sagging tenticles and carried her downstairs, Jonkyl staggered along behind, completely exhausted from his ordeal. The deformed Dwarf put Bryndyl on a table in the lab just as Jonkyl collapsed to the stone floor, hitting his head. Igor picked him up, put him on an adjoining table, and began removing their cloths and toweling the acid rain from their reddened, blistering skin.

After a brief examination, Igor's master looked worried. "This is serious, Igor. We must prepare a transfusion for the lady." Igor and his master worked feverishly, but Bryndyl had lost too much blood and Jonkyl had pushed his injured body to far and they both had absorbed far too much of the acidic rain, into the systems. Jonkyl and Bryndyl Hyll ceased to funtion.

The Hylls' deaths upset Igor's master immeasurably, he had worked long and hard to save them. Frustrated and weary, he transformed into a bat and flew up the torch lit spiral staircase to his conservatory. There, in the dark, waited his pipe organ.

He landed and let the transformation desolve. Carefully he lit the candelabra and sat before his cherished instrument. It was here that he had always found solace whenever the world seemed too much. He cracked his knuckles, stretched his long sinuous fingers and began to play an eerie, haunting melody that echoed off of the stone walls and drifted down the staircase.

Igor was still in the lab cleaning up the medical instruments and mopping the blood from the floor when the music filtered into the lab. Suddenly his eyes caught a movement. All three fingers on each of Bryndyl’s hands started to twitch. He watched in stunned silence as one of Jonkyl's suction-cupped arms began to rise! Then, Bryndyl sat straight up! Unable to contain himself, he dashed up the stairs to the conservatory. He burst in and shouted, "Master, Master! . . . The Hylls’ are alive with the sound of music!"