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Story of the week: The Phantom of the River of Sighs: He walked ever so slowly on
the bridge, as I and the Italian gently rowed our boat down the River of Sighs in that late night moonlight. It glimmered
on the wavy water and reflected onto the man's shadowy face, highlighting his bright eyes and cheekbones, now white and ghoulish
from the light of the phantom moon. "Walk in moonlight," as the old tale goes, "And thou shalt surely die!" We were silent,
a frightened expression on that handsome Italian's face. Then she appeared. She stood alone. Her small, bare and silvery feet
gleamed in the black marble beneath her. Her presence caught me by surprise, and was quite stunning, that bosom slightly quaking.
Something was terribly wrong. A splash was heard in that illongated sea of darkness. Her baby! That beloved child of hers
was being stifled under the wet mass of black diamonds! The stranger, his cloak long and smooth, dived smoothly and straight
into the water, barely making a sound as he hit its uneven surface. The Italian and I watched in amazment as the Phantom surfaced
at the shore of slate marble and handed her the child, alive and breathing. How joy escaped that woman! She moved, that statue
of stone, and her polished skin turned- crimson! She...had color! The Italian dropped his oar, for he was so amazed. We were
now at the current's mercy. Would we survive? Who knew? Nothing mattered. The Phantom returned to his lonely bridge without
a reward, without recognition, but with the pride of rescuing the next king of this kingdom. Venice! But who knew he knew
no pride? <center><a href="http://www.mimisk8.com"><img src="http://home.att.net/~mimimasu/mulogo.gif" border="0"></a></center><bgsound src="http://home.att.net/~mimimasu/evaangels.mid" loop=infinite hidden="true">
Sent in by Edgar Pae
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