The Bridge.

[LordRetard]

BY POPULAR DEMAND

I got off of the train, climbed the stairs, passed the turnstiles and left the station. The air was brisk. I walked to the street, looked down both ends, adjusted my hat, and started walking. It was not long until I reached the bridge.

It was a windy day, which might have meant a storm would arrive soon. Light debris was being scattered into the air. I began to walk over the bridge, where the wind began to grow in strength. A sudden gust blew my hat free, which began to tumble across to the other side of the bridge; I was about to run and grab it, but stopped myself. I couldn't reach it before it fell off, and even if I did then it wouldn't help me at all. My hair began to blow in my face. I pushed it out of the way in vain.
I stopped at the middle of the bridge, and looked to the north, over the railing. The valley below was a lush green, even on this cold spring day. Branches blew in the wind, cars drove by and a green river flowed past everything.

I stepped halfway up on the railing, and clenched the top of it with both hands. I peered down. It was tall enough, all right. I breathed deeply, and leaned over the railing. I stared at those green trees. I was not afraid.
Something pushed me.

I gasped and shouted in terror, though I have no idea if I even said anything. The ground rushed forward as my body moved over the railing. I was falling and the ground was speeding toward me. This was it. I panicked and screamed, and grabbed at the air with my hands, as if I could slow my fall and live instead. My hands caught something.
I clenched the railing again. I had barely moved; my feet had become caught in the railing. It was impossible for me to fall like this.

I took repeated breaths as I struggled for air. I was nearly hyperventilating. With some difficulty I eased my self down and reached the ground with my feet. I steadied myself, managed to let go of the railing and turned around.
There was no traffic and no one walking by. I looked down both ends of the bridge; no one was there at all, no strange figure running into the distance. The bridge was empty, except for me.

It must have been a gust of wind, although it didn't feel like one; at least, not in my memory. For how it struck me it felt as if someone had punched me with all of their strength. I looked again, and started to walk back, still gasping for air, still mortified that I had almost died. I walked all of the way back home, and didn't stop once, not to catch my breath, not to look back.

[Cirtur]

Nice story.

[Lethal Interjection]

I also liked it. Well written. One of those pseudo-abstract experiential shorts, which tend to be better than most shorts by amateurs.

[LordRetard]

Definitely, this is about the limit of what I know how to write. I have a lot of different ideas but only this sort of thing turns out okay.