The bridge stood over the valley, the only man-made structure for miles. It spanned a deep valley between two mountains, metal beams now rusted to the color of dried blood. From a distance, it seemed like the whole thing would fall apart if someone touched it wrong.
“And we’re going up there?” I asked Ryder as we followed the narrow creek bed, boots crunching on dried leaves and sticks.
“No, we’re going to the 7/11 behind it,” he joked. “Of course, we’re going up there. That’s the entire point of this hike.”
I looked up at the bridge. It was like an ugly scar on the land. An eyesore for any animals that would want to live here. If any animals lived here. There weren’t any birds in the sky, and the forest was eerily silent.
Ryder loved going to creepy areas with legends surrounding them. Not that I understood why. These were stories kids told each other at sleepovers. Tales of disappearances, lights in the sky, and a flying creature that guarded the valley. Folks said the bridge was bad luck. Folks said a lot of things, though.
This was just an abandoned freight bridge. Eerie for sure, but nothing more than some old tracks, waiting for nature to reclaim them.
We argued, deciding if we should go on the bridge or walk underneath it. Eventually, Ryder won. He always did. Ryder was as stubborn as a mule; most of the time, it was just easier to follow along.
The bridge looked close, but the climb was another story. The hill was steep and rocky, my knees burned, and my lungs wheezed trying to catch as much air as possible.
As we climbed,d I looked at the forest more. The trees in the valley all leaned towards the bridge, longer branches reaching for it like fingers on a hand, and the air felt thicker the closer we got to the bridge. As we neared the top, the sky had started to darken, the promise of a storm. Clouds rolled in and circled the valley.
At the top of the ridge, we froze.
Nothing lived on this bridge.
The ground was cracked and leached of color, dried to a dull grey, spreading outward like a rotting limb. It grew out from the tracks, about a yard on either side. The dead earth gripped the tracks like a parasite.
My stomach twisted, and bile coated my throat.
I turned to tell Ryder we should leave.
He was already halfway on the bridge.
“Ryder,” I called, my voice thin against the wind.
He kept walking towards the edge of the bridge, where the metal was ripped and twisted. I took a step onto the bridge, my stomach knotted so intensely that I just froze in place.
I called for Ryder again. Thunder swallowed my voice.
Looking up towards the storm clouds. They churned and circled the bridge, a warning to those who trespassed. The air grew thick. My ears started to ring.
Lighting split the sky.
For a moment, the world went white. The thunder was so loud, I thought the Earth had been cleaved in two. I threw my hands over my ears as the ground shuddered beneath me.
When the noise faded, I looked up.
The bridge was gone, dust rising from where it once stood.
Ryder was gone too, though something else stood in his place.
The creature was almost humanoid, tall with mismatched proportions. The body of the creature was wrapped in a dark, dense fur. Two wings, larger than its whole body, kept the creature up in the sky. Their surface was marked with dark circles, a warning to any potential predators.
I shuddered, wondering what this thing would consider a predator.
Its eyes glowed a bright red. They were fixed on me, unblinking. Not curious or frightened, but a warning. The air was electric. The storm circled inwards towards the creature.
With a loud boom, the creature flew up into the sky. The clouds tore apart, quickly closing back up. It was like the creature was never there in the first place.