The Bridge

Prompt: The Bridge  |  Genre: Magical Realism  |  Word count: 1200 words

There it is. The Bridge. Right in front of me. After all these years.

I look around. There are no guards, no posts. No blaring trumpets. I’d thought this moment would be special. Momentous. That the Bridge would be grand. Towering. Made of marble or something.

Instead here I am, standing before a regular stone bridge. Just like any other. I would’ve totally missed it if not for that old man’s… directions.

I feel my insides burning. I want to wring that hermit’s neck. I would’ve too if he only he didn’t live on top of that terrible mountain. There’s no way I’m gonna climb that again.

So I stand here. Before this ordinary looking Bridge. I wonder if it’s worth it. Maybe I should just turn back. Go home.

Home.

I feel the heaviness return. I take a slow, deep breath. I let it out, just as slowly.

It doesn’t help.

I look up at the Bridge. I have no choice except to move forward.

Instead, I find myself rooted to the spot. Staring ahead. The cobbled stone Bridge rises up in a slow curve. And then disappears. Into a thick cloud, light and dark, booming and crackling.

I feel my hands and feet grow cold. The shroud thickens. I can’t see but somehow I can feel, that it has started snowing.

That’s strange. How did a thunderstorm change like that?

“Not important.”

I jump out of my skin. Who was that? I whirl around to see a small girl standing before me.

“What’s important…”, she continues, as if frightening people out of their wits was the most normal thing in the world, “… is whether you intend to climb that Bridge.”

“Who are you?” I ask, in a tone that means ‘Who are you to ask me?’

She cocks her eyebrows and smirks, “Does it really matter?”

How rude of her! Hasn’t she learnt any manners?

“I don’t have manners because I asked you that question, or because I’m a kid?”

Lightening thunders behind me. Startled, I twist around. The cloud has turned blood red, spewing out loud sparks.

“My my! Someone’s really pissed off, aren’t they?”, the girl says, as she walks by and climbs the Bridge.

Is she mocking me?

“The world is a mirror. It shows you the image you hold in your heart.”

What does that even mean? I look at her. She is standing on the Bridge, a couple of paces ahead of me, looking straight at the cloud. I feel my cheeks burning. Here I am, a thirty year old woman, afraid to climb a stupid rock Bridge. And there she is, this tiny, frail little thing, facing a giant, red monster-cloud.

“Anger is terrifying only to the one who wields it”.

I shake my head in disbelief. Is she trying to sound like those wise old men and women in stories who spew out words that sound so full of meaning but no one can really understand?

She turns her head to look at me.

Her eyes! It’s as if she can see right through me. No, no! Don’t look! I stumble back, trying to get away from her.

She blinks. The spell breaks. My heart is racing. My forehead feels clammy. I gasp for air.

“You have changed”.

Does she know me? Surprised, I look at her. But then I realise I don’t want to see her eyes again. Too late.

I meet her eyes. And I see… disappointment? Somehow, it makes me feel small. Like a child. Like I failed her, in some way. Why would I feel that? I don’t even know her!

She sighs and looks back ahead. Does her shoulder look a little stooped? Or am I imagining things again?

“Go back. This journey is not for you.”

The cloud crackles, much louder than before. But I don’t notice. No one tells me what I can and cannot do. NO ONE!

She turns back to me, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe there’s still hope.”

I gawk. Who is she?! What does she want?

“Nothing. You wanted this. I’m just the guide. For now.”

Did she just respond to my… thoughts? Suddenly, I realise that that’s what she’d been doing all this while. I feel an ice-cold hand grip my heart.

“Where you want to go, only the brave venture. Fear will undo you”.

The hermit had then brought his dirty, haggard face close to mine. Instinctively, I drew back.

“Bah! Go back to where you came from! Don’t waste my time”, he waved his hand off as he got up and began to walk away.

“No please! Wait!”, I ran after him and fell on his feet. I could feel the dirt and slime under my hands. I fought the urge to retch.

“Bah! You think you can fool me?! Get away before I curse you!”

I drew back my hands and folded them, “O Master, please! You are my last hope. I need to know where the Bridge is. Please don’t turn me away!”

The hermit stopped walking. His back was turned to me and I don’t know whether he meant for me to hear it, but I heard him whisper, “It is you who turns away.”

We stayed that way, for a while… me on my knees, begging… him erect, solid. All I could do was stare. And all I could feel was a deep emptiness inside me. I’d felt that before, this emptiness. Sometimes when I stared out the window of my room. Or when I walked my dog on the meadow beyond my village. Or when I sat looking at a painting I’d never finished.

But this time, it hit me hard. I fell down on my face and rolled over to the side, clutching my stomach, my knees pulled in. I don’t remember how long I stayed there.

Or when the hermit had knelt down beside me.

He brought his face close. His eyes looked into mine. Those eyes. Gray, deep, like the ocean I’d once seen. He gently touched my face, wiped my tears. I could feel his hand against my cheek. The rough, withered skin should have grazed. Instead, it felt gentle. He came closer. And closer. He kept coming till his eyes were half-closed, his head tilted just a little. My body melted deep down. I felt his desire, and it stroked mine. He breathed it in and sighed.

The stench of old ale and rotten meat hit my face. I recoiled.

He didn’t move. For a while, he just knelt there looking at me. I thought I saw a flash of pain in those eyes. It made my body wail and reach out, but my mind revolted. His eyes turned cold and hard. He got up and looked down on me. He stretched forth the staff he held and touched it to my chest. It burned like hell. I cried out, my hands flailing. I thought he’d cursed me.

But instead, he said, “That fire in you… follow it. It will lead you to where you want to go.”

That fire had led me here.

“You coming or not?”

I take a deep breath and step on the Bridge.