The storm.

One day there was a terrific storm, the man who was not so young anymore was spending the time trying to ride out the storm sitting on his piano bench trying to play the keys in a way that would make the keys dance like they used to but all they would do was lament. After a few attempts, he gave up and sat in silence listening to the rain pound against the window and the wind howling at all corners of the building. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. He looked up with a start; "Who could be coming around at this hour?" The older man thought, the knock sounded again, more powerfully this time. The man rose, with some difficulty to answer the door. When he opened the door he almost collapsed when he saw the face waiting for him on the other side, slightly older but still the face he had loved dearly and the face that hated him so deeply. How could such a beautiful face carry a look of such hatred and anger?
The young man on the other side of the door pushed past the old man out of the storm and into the building. He turned around and faced the old man; "Its time you get what you deserve you sick bastard" he screamed as he stared at the old man and started towards him. The old man realizing what was happening began to back away but it was too late, his eyes began to well with tears, tears of sadness, regret and fear. Why him? Why must he have been born the he had? In his hast he tripped over the piano bench and fell to the floor, as he landed the young man raised an axe above his head and let it fall upon his victim, the old man didn't utter a word of protest and all that could be heard was the dull thud of the axe and the grunts of the young man, it took 27 blows from the axe to asauge the young mans anger, though the man was dead after 4.