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Red Cane I don't know if it was a ghost or not, but I have no other explanation of it. Maybe it was all in my mind. Maybe not. However, this is what I believe happened.

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Introduction

A Red Cane I don't know if it was a ghost or not, but I have no other explanation of it. Maybe it was all in my mind. Maybe not. However, this is what I believe happened. It was half-past five on a misty December evening and cars, scooters and buses were streaming from the factories towards the residential areas of the city. I was in the district on business after many years of absence and had planned, as soon as the factories closed, to visit an old and valued friend whom I had not seen for thirty years. The shortest way to her cottage would be by one of the numerous foot paths across the common, which was a surprisingly large area, preserved more or less in its natural state and protected against building development by local legislation; its vegetation consisted of stunted woodlands, interspersed by glades, thorn bushes, stretches of tussocky grass and brambles, and in course of time the birds had selected it as a sanctuary. Apart from the birds the common was little frequented in winter, but once spring and summer came round the swimming pool there would ring with shouts and splashes, and the houses in the roads opened the gates at the end of their gardens and released their children and dogs to the delights of freedom. ...read more.

Middle

"And if you happen to meet the sinner, what do you do then?" "Christ came into this world to save that sinner. I make a point of reminding him so." We walked on for a few minutes in silence. At this point the narrow asphalt path wound its way across a stream. It was the quintessence of rural peace, rendered all the more striking by the dank and misty evening. Listening to the gentle tinkling of the water, so black as to be almost invisible, it was difficult to realise that there was a city near by throbbing with life and vitality where thousands of souls, with their private ambitions and miseries, collaborated daily to produce heat and light and food and clothes and books, and to protect and preserve the waking and sleeping hours of the community. From here on the path wound its way under the overhanging branches of low trees and saplings, dripping from the deposit of fine rain and mist. My companion had fallen silent and I turned to look at her in order to reassure myself that all was well. Her head was averted and I could only see her movements that were small and quiet. ...read more.

Conclusion

She said that her tastes were peculiar, so much so that many of her numerous friends had told her that she was a witch. "What about a nice broomstick?" I had suggested. That made her laugh and then she said that, more than anything else, she would like a red cane without a handle. So I bought her one and gave it to her and I shall never forget the smile of beauty on her timeless face... What did I say? Timeless face? A shiver passed over me. Was it a shiver of fear, or of loneliness? I grasped my stick and rapped on the front door with it. A stranger opened the door. "Is Kate home?" I asked, then faltered at the expression on his face. "I have come especially down to see her," I went on hurriedly, "from the other side of London..." My voice trailed away to nothingness. "Haven't you heard?" he said in a matter of fact voice "she died over a year ago and we bought this cottage. The opening of the door had released a pool of light on the path and as I turned to go I caught sight of the stick I was carrying in my hand. It was red. Alex Kingcome 10:0 ...read more.

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