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A wrinkled
old man with a freezing face who hadn't smiled since his wife died
fifty years ago, went down to Branscombe beach to so some fishing.
One
misty night while he was fishing it started pouring with rain and
he took shelter in a cave nearby.
He
tripped over a pile of bones.
Suddenly
he discovered he wasn't alone.
He
looked around and noticed two bodies dumped in the corner of the
cave, bundled in bloodstained clothes. Clenched in the twisted fingers
of one of the dead hands was a note.
The
writing was smudged so that he could barely read it - but he managed
to make out the words "This could be You"
His
ancient legs ran as fast as they could all the way back to his home
on top of Branscombe Cliff.
He
ran into his house and as he slammed the door shut a mirror fell
to the floor and shattered. As he picked up the pieces of the mirror
he saw that his reflection was slowly fading.
He
heard a banging noise above him; he glanced up and there was three
bodies floating in the air. One of them had a wrinkled unsmiling
face. Were they clouds or were they not?
He
did not live to find out.
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