This bridge is a balm for my soul. My quiet place, where I can come and watch the sunrise, where the spring breeze dances over the water and touches my hair and face with gentle fingertips just after dawn. This bridge is where I find sanctuary.
My morning jogs often bring me here—a tiny detour, just another five minutes of the day. The extra effort is worth it for the peace and solitude.
To the East is a different bridge, a darker shadow on the river. There’s evil lurking on that bridge which I avoid. My sister attempted flight.
Inspired by this week’s Picture It & Write prompt:
7 thoughts on “Bridging the past”
I don’t usually do the broody thing, I find those types of stories tiresome. But it’s that kind of image?
Well, you managed a lovely bit of brooding for this one, Dave. It reads very poetically. I agree – it is that kind of image.
Your story suits the picture well. I really enjoyed how you described how she felt about each bridge.
Bridges suggesting a different tale entirely to me this morning. But then that always happens..heh.
I loved your interpretation of the prompt
The sister ‘attempted flight’ by a bridge. Does that mean attempted suicide? Interesting little piece, Dave. Thanks for contributing! 🙂