Railings

Flash Fiction. Inspired by an exchange holiday.

The rusted iron railings that run along each side of the bridge are supposed to make it safe.  But there’s a gap one side where anyone could fall down into the water below, and it is shallow water, which would make it a hard impact. The gap looks just the right size to fit a child or a dog.

I have to cross the bridge to get from my hotel into town. It looms before me like an obstacle in a computer game that you must get past, but I have only one attempt, not many like in the game, and one slip would be fatal.

The Mediterranean sunlight slants into my eyes as I approach the bridge, along the narrow path. I pull my sunhat down over my eyebrows, and reach out one hand towards the railing. When I grasp it the structure shifts sideways, making a grinding sound in the dirt.

I let go and trust my sense of balance, looking down to avoid the sunbeams, and the path passes under my feet too slowly. At least it’s moving, so the ordeal will soon be over.

But I’m planning on going back to the hotel for lunch today, and why shouldn’t I? It’s my holiday. I don’t want whoever has failed to maintain the bridge to have power over me, forcing me to stay in town. I need to be brave. I need to cross the bridge nonchalantly, whenever I want to.

 

Reviews

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

while short, this story has conflict and a satisfying sense of danger. i hope the protagonist is able to make it to lunch.

[Lena Chere]

Thank you for reviewing this.