Crossing the Bridge

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: 2022: WEEK #16
by rogershipp

It was almost over. All the heartache. All the strife. All the pain. One step onto that bridge and it would all be left behind.

No more ugly words and recriminations. No more accusations, half-truths, slights and outright verbal attacks.

One small step and the bitterness of loneliness would disappear, swallowed into a great black void of nothingness; or whatever was on the other side of this bridge. Heaven or Armageddon?

Others passed her by, bumping into her, jostling her in their scramble to get to the other side.

Another jerk and a long, hard pull found her at the very threshold of the bridge. Shadows moved on the other side. Mist undulated over the landscape. A mighty roar rang out, then three loud gongs signaling the closing of the bridge.

Take a step, just take a step. Something tugged harder. She wavered. Across the bridge was nearly everyone she loved and cared for. Lifting a small, frail foot above the glistening cedar of the long foot-bridge, she leaned forward then stopped.

A noise, coming from a distance far away rang familiar. There it was again! Turning away from the bridge, she did not see it dissipate.

The voice was closer now, distinguishable.“Grandma? Grandma are you awake?”