The Bridge (A Short Story) || Completed

The Story

I sighed and wiped the sweat from my brow. The air conditioner at work had been broken the three weeks now, and management didn't care enough to have it fixed. After all, they did their work from home. Customers were unhappy. Employees were unhappy. Business was slow.

I had just finished my four hour shift at the greasiest fast food joint in town. Walking outside felt fantastic, thanks to the cool breeze that chilled my sweat and the clean air that didn't smell like hamburgers.

My car was parked in the back of the parking lot. When I got in, I rushed to turn on the A.C. because the blazing sun had turned my car into an oven, even with the breeze.

The car ride home was always peaceful. The town was quiet, relatively small. Everything here is just like those cliché towns where everyone supposedly knows everyone and everything is perfect.

Except for the Suicide Bridge.

About eleven years ago, a seventeen-year-old girl, Alice Westly, jumped off in the middle of the night and killed herself. Nobody ever really knew why, but the cops figure it was drug related (that's what they always deemed the problem in cases they couldn't solve). Her parents tried everything to clear her good name, but to no avail; the rumor has spread and the townspeople had made up their minds.

Some people claim to see the ghost of a young girl on the bridge at night, but I have my doubts.

Since the first suicide, there have been twenty-three more. Men, women, girls, boys, all of them right over the edge. They were all so different, too. Mothers, fathers, teenagers with their whole lives ahead of them, rich, poor. None of them were anything alike besides the fact that they were now all dead. But they all had one thing in common when they jumped: nobody ever left a note.

Now, I'm not gonna lie to you and say that just because I'm skeptical of ghosts and spirits and whatnot means that bridge isn't creepy as shit. Because it is. Every time I drive over it, there's this weird vibe and I get the chills. But, usually nothing ever happens as I drive over it.

Until today.

As I drove closer to the bridge, I noticed a small figure standing on the railing. As I neared the figure, I realized it was a girl. She was standing on the railing of the bridge, leaning back against the rail while she peered over the edge into the rushing water below.

"Holy shit!" I cried. I swerved my car to the side of the road and parked, not even caring that the backside was still hanging in the road. I turned off the engine and unbuckled my seatbelt, throwing my keys onto the drivers seat as I launched myself out of the car.

"Hey!" I shouted as I jogged over to her. The girl turned around. She had short, curly hair that was a bleach-blonde color. She was short and had crystal-clear blue eyes. She wore denim shots that went slightly past her upper thigh, and a large blue hoodie. The look on her face was a mixture of fear, anger, and sadness.

As I reached the bottom of the raining she stood on, she said, "Don't get any closer or I'll jump!"

I stopped dead in my tracks.

How do I help her?

An idea came to mind. Maybe if I could talk to her and get her to open up and feel comfortable, I could talk her down.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"You don't need to know that," she retorted. I noticed small tears were slowly rolling from her eyes.

"Okay," I assured. "That's fine. My name is Maddie. How old are you? Can I know that?"

"Seventeen," she answered meekly, wiping away a tear with the blue hoodie sleeve.