The Song of the Gramaphone: Genre Undetermined

It was the song that lured her into the apartment. It sounded old and worn, like a record played on a gramophone over and over until the needle wore its track into the recored. She knew what a gramophone was because she’d seen it in a movie, but she’d never seen one in real life. Nor did she, that day. Instead, she pressed her hand against the doorknob, watched the door swing inward on creaky hinges, and walked into an old-time movie set that seemed to be inhabited by exactly nobody. As soon as the door opened, the song stopped, but of course she couldn’t turn away then. There was more to explore, things to see, things she’d no idea existed behind the blank door of apartment 56-C.

Inspiration: None.
Story Potential: Low.
Notes: Nothing new here. Could be the beginning to any one of a hundred stories.