Sunset Bridgeby
luvmyaussieComment by K3Master: He had walked far that day, on this journey of his. He was traveling the land, seeking himself, or at the very least, seeking to release what was already within himself, and so far he'd had a wonderful journey. For the most part, it had been carefree and of no event.
Then he'd stopped in that village this morning for a small bite to eat and a coffee, and had explained that he was to be going up Deadman's Road, as he heard there was some beautiful scenery that way. The room had gone quiet then, so that not a sound could be heard. It was like the very air had breathed in and refused to release itself.
He grinned uncomfortably and asked his waitress what the matter was. In a hushed whisper, her face ghostly white, she had uttered only that if he had any sense in his body, he would avoid that road. "Do not enter the covered bridge!" she had almost squealed, or would have if she had any breath left in her lungs.
With that, she told him quickly that his breakfast was on the house and that he should leave them, and such was her urgency that he decided not to make trouble and left the place.
Still, curiosity was stronger than fear in him, and laughing off what he considered the superstitions of a bunch of backwoods villagers, he decided to go his chosen path.
For most of the day he'd followed that road, which was called Deadman's for a reason unknown to him at the time. Had he known, perhaps he wouldn't have taken that road, though perhaps he would have still.
He followed that road without incident until the sun began to rain fire among the clouds and turned the air golden hued. It was then that he came upon it, the covered bridge. It stood there like any bridge, glowing red-orange in the deep light of the early evening, but looking absolutely unremarkable, and certainly not like a thing of horror and fear.
He laughed at the memory of the waitress, who had seemed near death with fright, and shook his head. The things that people allow themselves to fear. It could be so foolish.
So he hitched up his pack and started across that bridge, sitting in the middle of an expanse of fields and grass, and strolled across without much thought at all. Laughing, he reached the opening at the far end, and standing just inside, gazing at the final moments of the sunset beyond, he turned back to the gathering darkness behind him and began to shout out that victory was his. That he had beaten the silly bridge.
He began to shout, but no sound escaped him. No sound but a keening whistle from his suddenly constricted throat. For before him was a ghastly specter, glowing a sickly green, and dripping an oozing smoky slime. It floated there in front of him and then released a screeching wail that filled his head and his soul, a pitch that was almost beyond physical sound, but threatened to shatter him entire. He dropped to his knees, his body clenched in a deathly rictus, his mouth open in a silent scream, and the dripping, venomnous thing that was like mist and moisture ceased it's wail, and attacked.
Yes, in the end, he discovered why it was called Deadman's Road, but he was never found to explain it to anyone else.
Photographer found comment helpful.