Right on the edge of a leafless forest, there was a piano. Some how it had survived the wreckage and carnage of the war. The piano was a dark, shiny, brown. It looked as if it had just been cleaned or was brand new. At about 5:00pm, a man stumbled up to the piano. He was wearing black boots and light brown clothes. He had a gun on his back and it sounded like he had a lot of experience with playing the piano. It was a slow sad tune. Then, out of the mist, came a patrol of enemy soldiers. They ran in with guns blazing, rudely cutting of the mournful music of the lone soldier. The soldier was mercilessly shot down were he was standing, and the piano blasted into splinters. The enemy soldiers quickly and quietly ran away from the brutal murder.