chillingchronicles

[chillingchronicles]

The Bridge Of Sorrows

Chapter 8 Sorrows

The fog thickened as we trudged through the brush, the twins following me, their footsteps uncertain.

“What the hell is this place, Vanessa? This is weird,” Susanne said, her voice uneasy.

“This is beyond sketchy,” Sara added, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting something to emerge from the mist.

“I know it feels strange,” I said, a tight smile on my lips. “But you’ll be amazed by what you’re about to see.”

We stepped onto the bridge, and the air seemed to grow colder.

“Where the hell are we?” Sara asked, looking around in confusion.

“What if I told you that this bridge could answer any question you had? That it knows everything?” I paused, letting the silence sink in. “Sara, wouldn’t you like to know if you’re going to make it to the WNBA?”

Her eyes lit up with sudden excitement. “Hell yeah! But what’s the catch?”

I glanced at both of them, my heart racing. “You have to offer something meaningful—something personal.”

“Like my pompoms?” Susanne asked, her brow furrowing.

“Exactly,” I replied, my voice calm, though inside I was trembling.

Sara laughed. “This is ridiculous! You can’t be serious.”

They both started laughing, but I couldn’t join them. The bridge’s power, the deity’s presence, weighed heavily on me. Should I tell them what I’ve already given up? Dorris… baby John? The price is always high, but I had no choice. I needed answers.

“I’ll do it,” Sara said, stepping toward the edge of the bridge, her basketball in hand.

“Wait!” Susanne lunged at her, slapping her hard across the face. Blood spurted from Sara’s nose, staining the basketball in her hands.

“Are you insane? You love that basketball! You scored 46 points with it, and now you want to give it up for a stupid answer? What if Vanessa’s just messing with us?”

Sara wiped the blood from her nose, glaring at her sister. “I need to know. You don’t understand. I’ve worked too hard to fail now.”

Their argument seemed distant, like echoes from a past life. Something darker was twisting inside me, warping my thoughts. This had to happen. I needed to know why the deity had chosen this form—why it had taken the shape of this cursed bridge.

Sara turned toward the ledge, gripping her bloodied basketball. “Will I make it to the WNBA?” she asked, her voice filled with desperation.

The air thickened, and from beneath the bridge, a red glow began to pulse, growing brighter. The voice from the depths of the bridge was deep, guttural.

“You will succeed… but not without pain. Your ambition will cost you friendships, and not all those who stand with you are loyal.”

Sara’s face paled, her eyes wide in disbelief. “Holy shit, Vanessa was right…”

Susanne stood frozen, staring at the bridge in horror. “What the hell is this?” she whispered, backing away. “What did you do, Vanessa?”

I stepped closer to them, my mind racing. This was the moment. I had to act.

I couldn’t risk them leaving, not before I had my answer.

“You’ve always been the smart one, Susanne,” I said softly. “But there’s something you don’t know.”

Both twins turned to me, their eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What?” Sara asked.

I stepped between them, my voice barely a whisper. “I still haven’t asked the bridge my question.”

They glanced at each other, confusion etched on their faces.

“What do you need to know?” Susanne asked.

I looked past them, into the pulsing red light, and spoke aloud, “Deity, why did you take the form of this bridge?”

Before they could react, I shoved both twins forward with all my strength. They screamed as they tumbled over the ledge, disappearing into the crimson glow.

For a brief, breathless moment, there was only silence. Then, the voice of the deity rumbled up from the depths.

“I took this form to blend into the mortal world. My sisters sought to destroy me, but I survived by hiding. I needed blood to regain my strength. Thanks to you, Vanessa, I now have enough to take my true form. And I will have my vengeance.”

My body trembled as the realization hit me. I had fed it—Dorris, baby John, now the twins. I was its pawn all along, and now, I’d given it what it wanted.

I collapsed to my knees, tears streaming uncontrollably down my face. “What have I done?” The words barely escaped my lips, the weight of my guilt pressing down like a suffocating fog. The crimson glow beneath the bridge began to fade, but its haunting presence remained, forever imprinted in my mind. The deity’s laughter still echoed, a cruel reminder of the irreversible choices I had made.

I stood, every step heavy with the burden of my actions. I approached the bridge’s ledge, peering down into the dark void that had swallowed Susanne and Sara. Their laughter, their faces—everything about them—was now just a fading memory, consumed by the abyss.

I climbed onto the ledge, the wind tugging at my hair, but it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like the end of everything. I thought of Dorris. I thought of baby John. I thought of the twins. All the people I had sacrificed, gone because of my greed, my desperation, my inability to resist the whispers that had twisted my mind.

The sky above was vast and empty, but even in its expanse, I felt no release, no solace.

“I can never follow them,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of sorrow. “Wherever they’ve gone… I can never be with them.”

I had crossed a line—too far, too deep into the darkness. I had betrayed everything good, and now I stood alone, forever severed from the world I once knew. This was my punishment, my exile from everything I had loved and lost.

With one final breath, I closed my eyes, letting go. But as I fell backward into the abyss, it wasn’t the deity’s laughter that followed me.

It was the silence.

[chillingchronicles]

The Bridge Of Sorrows

I need to think of another victim. I dashed off the bridge to return to the car, realizing I had left the stroller behind. It doesn’t matter now—it won’t be needed anymore. I got into the car and drove fiercely to the Johnsons’ house. I parked in front and rushed toward the door, my heart racing as I gasped for breath. Pressing my hand on the front door, I extracted my key and placed it into the lock. It seemed like an eternity to open, but finally, I heard the clinking noise of the deadbolt releasing. When I stepped inside, I collapsed flat onto the floor.

Through the kitchen window, I saw the sun setting, trailing burnt orange and scarlet across the sky. These were the days I used to sit on the neighborhood playground bench, watching the sunset, its colors stretching across the horizon. Part of me wishes I could go back, but I’m growing numb to the harm I’ve caused. Something is taking over my mind, and I can feel it.

“Hey, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I tried to stand, but I didn’t have the energy. The voice was kind, with a high-pitched, lyrical tone that told me it was a woman. Her hands gently helped me sit up, but I couldn’t bring myself to look up at her.

“Vanessa, is that you?”

My pupils dilated as I slowly lifted my head. It was Susanne, one of the twins from the neighborhood.

“What are you doing here, Susanne?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Is this the Johnsons’ house? They must’ve remodeled. Wait... are you still watching their house on weekends like in high school?”

“I am. But...”

“Anyway,” Susanne continued, “I was running around the neighborhood and saw what looked like a lifeless body inside the house, so I came to check.”

“You always liked staying in shape with your runs.”

“Well, not everyone has good genes like you, Vanessa.”

“Can you help me up?”

Before Susanne could respond, another voice interrupted.

“Hey, Susanne! You started without me, you bitch!”

“Who’s that?” I asked, startled.

“That’s my sister, Sara.”

I looked up. “Wow, she’s grown!”

“She’s a basketball player at Washington State University now.”

Susanne helped me up. Looking at both of them, I realized they hadn’t changed much since high school. Susanne still had her slim, athletic cheerleader’s build and straight brunette hair, and Sara, though taller and more muscular, had the same brunette hair with a beauty mark on her temple.

As Susanne helped me walk toward her car, Sara grabbed her basketball.

“Why are you bringing your basketball?” Susanne asked, rolling her eyes.

“I want to,” Sara replied stubbornly.

“Hey, Susanne, why don’t you bring your pompoms?” I suggested.

“Why?”

“Remember how you used to cheer for Sara when she practiced outside?”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Susanne said, smiling.

As we got into the car, I saw Susanne’s high school cheerleader pompoms in the backseat, next to Sara’s basketball from her championship win.

My mind was spinning. My plan was falling into place, and I knew exactly how to use these two to my advantage to get the answers I needed from the bridge.

[chillingchronicles]

Chapter 6 No Remorse

Something was compelling me to return to Lilith Blvd. I felt a deep curiosity about the bridge—its origins, its powers, and the ominous warning that I would regret crossing it. There had to be more to this bridge than met the eye.

Arriving at Lilith Blvd, I got out of the car, took John out of his car seat, and placed him in his stroller. As I approached the bridge with him, I remembered Dorris’s account of discovering it. The wind picked up, the clouds thickened, and the scent of rain was heavy in the air. A chill ran through me as the wind whipped my hair. A profound sense of dread washed over me, and I gripped John’s stroller tightly, sensing an unseen force tugging at it, as if trying to pull him away from me.

I quickly lifted John out of the stroller. He was unnervingly calm, not a single cry escaped his lips. I held him close, studying his solemn face. He wasn’t smiling, and something about him felt disturbingly off. I carried him toward the spot where Dorris had fallen from the bridge. I wanted answers about this bridge and its true nature.

Holding John high, he looked at me with an expression of sadness, as if he knew something terrible was about to happen. I held him over the edge of the bridge, our eyes locked, and tears streamed down his face. He kicked his legs frantically, and my heart ached. “John, I’m so sorry. I love you with all my heart,” I whispered, struggling with the impulse to let him go.

Suddenly, my arms were pulled back, forcefully preventing me from dropping him. It felt as if Dorris was intervening, stopping me from harming John. I was horrified by the thought. This wasn’t like me at all—I felt controlled by some external force. I would never intentionally hurt John.

I slowly walked toward the end of the bridge, a cold gust of wind brushing past my ears. A soothing, melodic voice echoed, “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, give me an offering.”

I looked down at John in my arms, kissed his forehead, and saw him smile. The tears had stopped. With a heavy heart, I threw him over the ledge. The bridge erupted in a wicked laugh that sent shivers down my spine and raised goosebumps on my skin.

“What would you like to know?” the voice inquired.

“Well, what are you? And where did you come from?”

“I am a deity, the death goddess and a warrior. I sought to rise through the ranks to compete with the other top warrior goddesses, but a battlefield injury halted my progress. That’s more than you need to know for now.”

“Others? Are there more like you?”

“That’s all I have for now. If you wish to know more, you know where to find me.”

I now feel a consuming urge to find my next victim. Greed has taken over my body, and I no longer recognize myself. I feel no remorse for what I did to baby John.

[chillingchronicles]

Chapter 5 A Woman's Scorn

It was 10:00 a.m. I had to hurry to Mr. Johnson’s house to babysit. My heart warmed at the thought of seeing baby John and his sweet, ocean-blue eyes. With my key to the Johnsons' back door, I let myself in, eager to see John’s big smile. As I inserted the key, the door swung open unexpectedly. Mr. Johnson stood there, his face flushed and eyes darting.

“Hey, Vanessa, I’m in a rush. I left extra cash on the counter. I’ll be gone for the weekend. Can you stay?” he asked urgently.

“I don’t mind. I could stay with baby John,” I assured him.

Relief washed over his face. “Wonderful. John adores you. If anything happens, call me or Sophia.” Without looking back, he called, “Bye, John. I adore you, son.”

Mr. Johnson dashed out. I picked up John and walked to the window. I watched as he hurriedly stuffed a bag into a red car. The way he moved, trying to avoid something, was frantic. When the car backed out, I strained to see who was driving. My heart stopped—it was Mrs. Delagarza. What the hell?

John jumped in my arms. “Oops, sorry, John,” I murmured.

Five minutes later, Sophia pulled up, her car screeching to a halt. She stormed through the door, her face a mask of fury and her eyes red and puffy from crying. I had never seen her like this before—usually so composed, now unraveling before me.

“Vanessa,” she panted, “where is he?”

“Mr. Johnson?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“Yes, of course!” she snapped, her voice sharp and barely contained.

“He said he was going on a weekend trip,” I replied softly, the tension in the room palpable.

Sophia’s eyes darted around the room, her hands trembling. “His phone’s going to voicemail,” she said, her voice breaking. “Did you see what kind of car he left in?”

“A red one,” I managed to say.

Sophia’s face twisted into a bitter smile. “I just know he’s cheating on me,” she hissed. “A woman knows. The signs are always there—the late nights, the secretive calls. It starts with fewer conversations, then he becomes distant, like you’re a stranger in your own home.”

Her voice cracked, and for a moment, she seemed on the verge of collapse under the weight of her emotions. Her breath came in shuddering gasps, her face etched with pain. I could see the storm inside her—hurt, anger, betrayal, all fighting for dominance. Her eyes brimmed with tears, her jaw clenched tight.

“Vanessa, I’m going out,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “I need to clear my head. Can you stay with John?”

“Yes, of course. When will you be back?” I asked, trying to offer some semblance of calm.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was distant, as if she was already somewhere else. She turned and walked out, her shoulders stiff and her movements sharp, like each step was a struggle. I could feel her rage lingering in the room, heavy and suffocating.

I looked at John, who was laughing and reaching into the air. His eyes sparkled with innocence. Was it Dorris playing with him? She always enjoyed making him laugh. But then John started to cry. I grabbed the keys, put him in the stroller, and headed to the car. It might be best to get out of the house.

As I opened the car door, a wave of nostalgia hit me. I remembered Dorris, Susane, and Sara—the mischievous twins. We had so many wild times, from partying without permission to running from cops. I should visit Susane and Sara after the weekend. I could tell them about the bridge. But first, I need to find my next offering.

[chillingchronicles]

The Bridge Of Sorrows

Chapter 4 Dearly Departed

I woke up around 8:00 a.m., the empty walls of my room staring back at me. The dread of what I had to do settled in—I’d have to tell Dorris’s mom what happened. Flashes of Dorris’s face as she fell over the bridge haunted me as I got ready, my guilt growing heavier with every step.

On the kitchen counter, I found a note:

“Vanessa, you left your car on and your keys in the ignition, so the battery died. I had a mechanic come pick it up. You can borrow my car. I got a ride from Sarah next door. Have a good day at work. I’ll call you when I get a chance.”

The drive to Mrs. Delagarza’s house was filled with childhood memories of Dorris and me, but they only tightened the knot in my chest. As I pulled into the driveway, my hands trembled slightly. I knocked on the door, bracing myself.

“Hey, Vanessa, how are you?” Mrs. Delagarza greeted me warmly.

“I... I need to tell you something,” I stammered. “Something bad happened yesterday.”

“Okay…” she said, concern knitting her brow.

“Dorris and I went to a bridge... to find out if Mr. Johnson was having an affair. This guy told us we could get answers if we offered something meaningful. Dorris tried to take off my shoe, but she... she fell over the edge. Mrs. Delagarza, I’m so sorry. Dorris is dead.”

There was a long pause before she responded, her voice calm, almost too calm. “Vanessa, who is Dorris? I don’t have a daughter named Dorris.”

“What? No, Mrs. Delagarza, you do. Dorris! You have pictures of her everywhere in the living room!”

She looked at me with concern. “Vanessa, there are no pictures of Dorris. Are you feeling okay?”

“Can I get a glass of water, please?”

“Sure, come on in.”

I walked into the house, heart pounding, and looked around. The walls were bare—no trace of Dorris anywhere. My stomach dropped.

“Vanessa, as you can see, there aren’t any photos of this Dorris person you speak of.”

“I see that now…”

“Well, I’m heading out for the weekend with a friend. Take care, okay?”

“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Delagarza. I’ll be on my way now.”

“Drive safe, Vanessa.”

[chillingchronicles]

Chapter 3 Shattered Spirit

I bolted off the bridge, my heart hammering in my chest, fear driving my every step. The only thought in my mind was to get home, to tell Mom what happened to Dorris—if she’d even believe me. The night was deathly silent, not a single car in sight. The streetlights seemed to blur as I sped through the empty streets, the roar of my engine tearing through the stillness like a scream in the dark.

I skidded into the driveway, leaving the car door wide open as I sprinted to the front door. My hands shook so violently that the keys kept slipping through my fingers, clattering to the ground like brittle bones. When I finally got the door open, I stumbled inside, barely able to breathe.

Mom was on the couch, her face lit by the soft glow of the TV. Everything felt so normal here, as if the world hadn’t just been ripped apart.

“Mom! Mom!!” I gasped, my voice cracking with desperation.

She jumped, eyes wide as she turned to face me. “Vanessa? What on earth—what’s wrong?”

“Dorris and I went to this bridge,” I panted, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “That guy from the bar… he said we could get answers from a bridge, but to find the truth, you have to offer up something meaningful. So we went… Dorris pulled off my shoe. She pulled too hard and went over the bridge!”

Mom’s brow furrowed, her concern deepening. “Vanessa, slow down. Who’s Dorris?”

I stared at her, my blood running cold. “What do you mean, ‘Who’s Dorris?’ My friend! My best friend, Dorris! You know her!”

Mom’s hand tightened on the armrest, her eyes searching my face as if looking for some sign that I was joking. “Vanessa… I’ve never heard of a Dorris.”

A chill crept up my spine. “No… no, that’s not possible. She’s been my friend since kindergarten, Mom. You’ve met her dozens of times!”

Mom shook her head slowly, her eyes clouded with worry. “Vanessa, I don’t know what’s happening, but you’ve never mentioned a Dorris. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The room seemed to spin around me. This had to be some kind of twisted nightmare. “Wait, I’ll prove it to you!” I fumbled for my phone, my hands trembling as I unlocked it. “We took a picture today. I saved it as my screensaver.”

But the screen was black. Empty. I frantically opened my photo gallery, scrolling through every album, every folder. Nothing. Not a single trace of Dorris.

Mom leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Vanessa… where is she?”

“This can’t be happening,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. “She was just here. How could she—how could everything just be gone?”

Mom’s voice was soft, careful, as if speaking too loudly might shatter me. “Vanessa, you’re exhausted. Let me take you to your room.”

“No, Mom, listen! We were just at the bar today.”

She hesitated, then said gently, “Vanessa, you never go to the bar. You hate it there. And tonight… you were babysitting John, remember?”

Her words felt like ice water thrown in my face. Nothing made sense. Everything was slipping away, like sand through my fingers. “But… but the collage! I have a collage of pictures of Dorris and me in my room!”

I stumbled to my bedroom, driven by a desperate need to prove she was real. But when I threw open the door, my heart dropped into a bottomless pit. The walls were lined with collages—pictures of Mom and me, birthday parties, holidays… but no Dorris. There wasn’t a single photo of her. Not one.

Mom’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Vanessa, honey, I don’t know what’s happening, but there’s no Dorris. There never was.”

The room closed in around me. My breath hitched as tears blurred my vision. “I’m not crazy, Mom,” I choked out, the words barely audible.

“I know, sweetie,” she said, her voice gentle as she guided me to the bed. She pulled back the covers, tucking me in with a tenderness that only deepened the dread gnawing at my insides. “Just rest. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”

But as I closed my eyes, all I could see was Dorris—her face pale with terror as she fell, the haunting echo of her scream reverberating in my mind. Sleep came, but it brought no peace. Only darkness, and the unbearable feeling that something was terribly, irreversibly wrong.

[chillingchronicles]

Chapter 2 Ark Of Despair

“Hey Dorris, I’m going to put the address into the GPS,” I said. Then added, “That guy, do you think he was telling the truth about this bridge?”

 “I honestly don’t know,” Doris mused. “That guy seemed pretty weird. What do you think?”  

The GPS interrupted, “Turn right, then continue straight. Your destination will be on your left.” 

“He didn’t even tell us his name. That was very rude of him.” I paused thoughtfully and added, “I just feel he was trying to be nosy and lure us out here to kidnap us.” 

“Maybe.” 

You have arrived at your destination, Lilith Blvd Lane.

Our surroundings were nothing but trees and bushes. It was getting late. The sun was going down. It was so beautiful. 

“Hey, Vanessa,” Dorris prodded, “Hurry up! I think I found the bridge.” Her voice was laced with excitement. 

I could feel something was off about the bridge. It’s colorless. “Hey Dorris, let’s not do this after all.” 

“What? Why? We made it out here, and now you don’t want to do this anymore?” Dorris said incredulously.

Warning 

I paused in thought. “You know what? You’re right; let’s do this.” 

Before stepping onto the bridge, I felt a soft touch on my shoulder, a faint, eerie voice floated through the wind to my ears, “Don’t go, don’t do this. You will regret it.”The voice warned. As I stepped onto the bridge, the voice stopped.

Dorris whispered, “Vanessa, it’s very misty here. It feels like we are high up in the air. It’s suddenly very chilly, don’t you think?” 

I shrugged in answer and said, “Now that we are on the bridge, let’s ask about Mr. Johnson.” 

“Nah, that’s all you,” Dorris said as she took a step back. “You wanted to come out here. You ask.” 

I looked nervously around. The mist over the still water beckoned me with a supernatural air. Throat tight, I spoke, “I would like to know if Mr.Johnson is having an affair.” I held my breath for a moment in anticipation. 

Three anxious minutes passed.  Finally, Dorris broke the silence, “Well, this is very upsetting. Didn’t that guy say you have to sacrifice something meaningful? Remember?” 

“Oh yeah! You’re right.” I looked around curiously. “Do you think it would want earrings?” We giggled nervously. 

Dorris smiled, “We can try it. Help me get them out, man. These are my favorite pair of earrings.” 

“I’ll buy you more, Dorris.” 

I went near the bridge’s ledge and dropped the earrings over. I couldn’t see anything through the mist. We waited. Nothing happened. 

“Dorris, do you have anything else on you?” I asked.

“No. How about we try those shoes I’ve been begging you to let me borrow?” She suggested.

“I doubt the bridge would want my shoes,” I responded wryly. 

“It’s worth a try,” Dorris said as she tried getting them off my feet. 

The Voice 

We laughed the whole time. Finally, Dorris managed to pull one of my shoes off. She continued onto my other shoe. She tugged and tugged. As she pulled the second shoe off, her momentum caused her to fall back to the ledge of the bridge. Her backside went over first and she plummeted below. Oh my gosh!  

I heard a sound so earsplitting that it shocked me. My body jumped multiple times, and I started to panic. I couldn’t breathe. I was gasping for air. I know it was Dorris’s body hitting some surface below. That sound kept playing in my head like a song on replay. The mist started to clear up, and looking over the bridge, Dorris was nowhere to be seen. I whimpered, curling myself into a ball upon this bridge that I shouldn’t have ever visited. It felt like my heart was torn from my chest. 

Then I heard it. A soothing voice wrapped insidiously around me as it whispered, “Mr.Johnson is having an affair with another female.” 

Could this be the voice from the bridge? No. Dorris wasn’t supposed to be the sacrifice. In fact, none of this was supposed to happen! Dorris didn’t even want to come to the bridge. It’s all my fault! How do I go about telling her Mom? Her mom will be heartbroken and alone since her husband passed away two years ago. This will be devastating.

[chillingchronicles]

The Bridge Of Sorrows

Chapter 1 The Old Tale

After babysitting, I always waited for my mom to finish her shift at the bar. Every day I visited her with my friend Dorris to tell her what events had occurred throughout the day. 

“Hey girls, I’ll be over in a minute!” Mom shouted upon spotting us in the crowd.

Dorris leaned in conspiratorily, “Hey Vanessa, we should tell your mom that we overheard Mr. Johnson talking to another woman about taking a so-called business trip.” 

“Hush, Dorris, no, that would be so wrong of us even to bring that up,” I scolded.

“Ahh, come on, Vanessa!” 

Impatience etched my face as I responded, “Noooo, Dorris!” 

“Fine,” she huffed in resignation.

Mom’s voice drifted into our conversation. “Hey girls, what story do you two have for me today?” 

Dorris blurted, “Mr. Johnson is taking a so-called business trip soon with a co-worker of his, but they were flirty about it all.” 

“Dorris! I said no, ugh. Mom, I think he’s cheating on his wife. He was on the phone with a woman who was urging him to, and I quote, ‘Hurry up and pack your bags.’ Then she said, ‘I’ll come over to pick you up tomorrow. Don’t tell your wife where you’re going.’ Can you believe that, Mom?”

Mom’s eyes narrowed. “What? Vanessa, you weren’t going to tell me this?”

“I wasn’t sure,“ I stammered, “I just wish I knew more.” 

Mom stood up. “Well, girls. I’m about to finish my last 10 minutes here. I will see you later and we can finish our conversation then.”

 “Bye, Mom!”

Dorris started back up immediately. “Well, Vanessa, how can we figure more about Mr. Johnson?”

Who Is This Guy 

 As soon as I was about to respond, a man pulled up a chair. He had on black jeans and a white shirt. His jeans were dirty and torn, and his shirt had stains as if he’d been working in the dirt. He reeked of alcohol. I overheard you girls talking about wanting to know something?” 

Dorris and I turned and looked at each other. “Yeah, that’s right,” I said cautiously.

“What if I told you girls that you can get your answer from a bridge? It can tell you anything you want to know, anything at all. But for this to happen,” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice, “you must make an offering. Not just any offering though. It must be something meaningful and precious to you.” 

Dorris and I were quiet for about five seconds until Dorris said, “Dude, what are you talking about?”  

Where It Begins

“Alright,” the man said, “let me tell you a tale about the bridge. Before this city was a town, there was a girl whose name was Raven that came across a bridge. It was raining that day, and once she stepped upon it, it got frigid as the temperature dropped. She had her pet frog in hand and wanted to know if a boy in her class had a crush on her. She leaned against the bridge, but she accidentally dropped her frog. She was crying profusely, but the bridge said to Raven, ‘The boy in your class you are talking about likes you, but he’s timid to tell you.’  Raven heard what the bridge said. 

The boy approached the girl the following day and said, ‘Raven, I like you, but I’ve been too afraid to tell you.’  Since that day, Raven went around town saying it was this magic bridge that would tell you anything you wanted to know, but only if you give up something precious.”

Skeptically, I said, “How do you even know if this is real? How long ago did this story supposedly take place?” 

The man said it happened in the ’90s. Dorris noted we are in the 2000s man, and that’s probably a made-up story. 

Lilith Lane

The man sat up straighter. “No, it’s not. Raven started to get so many answers for what she wanted to know that she got addicted to. The strain of it lead her to kill herself. Sacrificing something that means so much to oneself must have been so hard on her. It drove her to the ultimate despair.” 

Maybe, just maybe this could be true, I thought. Prodding for more information, I asked, “How do you know all about this? Where is this bridge anyway?” 

 “Because my father told me. The bridge can be found on West Blvd. Lilith Lane.” With that, he pulled himself out of his chair and walked heavily away. 

Dorris was wide-eyed and jittery. “Vanessa, do you think that guy was serious?” 

“I’m not sure,” I responded cautiously, “but that story was fascinating. We should at least check it out.”

“I don’t know, Vanessa. It’s getting late, don’t you think?” 

“Please, Dorris?” 

“OK, Vanessa. Let’s go check it out.”