The Boy on the Bridge

It was a common rumor that ghosts roamed the halls at Branson University. Especially in the library, every once in a while, a cold chill would rattle the bones of students before promptly slipping away. Most were skeptical of this claim, including me. I don’t make it a habit to believe rumors. Rumors are a waste of time and time is something I definitely don’t have with finals right around the corner. It was imperative that I score well. I didn’t want to experience the last time my father felt my rank was unacceptable. The welts hadn’t disappeared for days. I fiddled with my necklace, a nervous habit I had developed. It belonged to my grandma, a sacred treasure that helped me remember the less troubled time of my youth when I would stay with her for long stretches of time. 

All my materials were orderly stacked on top of one of the desks in the library, but I couldn't get myself to focus. I looked over my notes time and time against glossing over the pages in such a way I knew that I wasn’t actually retaining the information. I just felt so…tired. I wasn’t sleeping any less than I usually did but my energy seemed to be at an all time low no matter how many caffeinated beverages I consumed. It was almost as if there was an invisible weight crushing against my chest that made me want to drift off into a daydream and never wake up. 

I let out a sigh of frustration ready to throw everything against the library wall although it would be a shame to ruin any of the lovely bookshelves that lined it. 

This was the best place to study by a long shot, open 24/7 and most likely where most of not all the county funding had gone. The space itself wasn’t particularly enormous but the cozy atmosphere  was perfect for getting work done. There were millions of books perfectly placed in wood ordained shelves that rose from the floor to the ceiling and a fireplace that kept the place warm in the winter. There were clusters of wooden desks in the center along with singles for those who worked better alone. An array of bean bag chairs lay scattered in multiple corners for anyone with enough downtime to read one of the multitude of books the library had to offer. There were no lights except for desk lamps on each of the desks, so at night, as it was now, it was difficult to see despite the pale moonlight that filtered through the giant glass windows. There was a comfortable silence that hung in the air. The kind of silence that usually calmed my anxious nerves and solidified my focus. The librarian, along with everyone else, had long retired for the night leaving me in peace with my notebook, flash cards and recorded lectures. I was listening to a chemistry lecture when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I swiveled my head, but there was nothing there. A sudden chill came over me and I yanked out my headphones. A thin low pitch whistle of wind hummed in the air along with rustles of leaves in the courtyard outside. My skin pricked with goosebumps as I scanned my surroundings. Just as I was about to brush it off and get back to work I saw the figure of a woman standing in front of the entrance of the library. I stifled my urge to scream. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself but that plan quickly disintegrated when she slowly turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were black, like the pupils had expanded until the socket was black as ink. Her skin was a glossy white while the rest of her features were hazy around the edges. Her lips were frozen in a straight line, her expression unreadable. Slowly, almost lethargically, she raised her hand, becoming me. I shivered; whispers of ice flashed against my skin. My gut was telling me to run, to put as much space as possible between this figure and I as possible. 

I was about to do just that when I saw something shimmer from the figure’s hand. Panicked, I touched my neck only to come in contact with bare skin instead of the golden chain that had become my constant reassurance over the years. 

“Give it back,” I whispered but when the figure didn’t make any effort to move I yelled louder. “Give. It. Back.”

She still said nothing, but she started to move. However, not towards me but outside. “Hey, no, stop!” I shouted, throwing everything back into my backpack before chasing after her.

I threw open the doors only to be welcomed by the peacefulness of the night. The full moon hung in the sky along with several stars as if they were posing for a portrait. No cars roamed the streets this early in the morning so it was just me and the sound of adrenaline pounding through my veins. I spotted her, the figure, underneath a light post that stood outside the entrance to the park. I sprinted towards her, but I blinked once, and she was gone. I quickly squashed the scream of frustration that was rising up my throat. Screaming would get me nowhere. Eyes squinting in the dark, I scanned the area until I thought I saw something move just past the entrance of the bridge that hung over the Necro River, the river of death. Supposedly millions had died from the serene looking river due to invisible jagged rocks resting at the bottom along with unassuming yet monstrous pull of the current. I had never actually seen death at the hands of this river, but there were enough stories that it wasn’t completely unbelievable. 

I jogged to the end of the bridge where the figure had been, the cold night slicing my cheeks and bare arms. I froze. There was someone there. Standing on the railing was a man around my age. His brown hair was messy and he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were devoid of emotion, like life had been drained out of them.

As I crept up to him, he didn’t turn to acknowledge my presence. Maybe I was having hallucinations after all. 

“Why don’t you get down from here,” I stated, taking his hand, “I have a feeling you aren’t up there for a better view of the scenery.” The contact seemed to snap him out of whatever state he had been in. His finger curled into mine like he was holding on for dear life. 

“Come down, please. We both know you don’t truly want to do this,” I coaxed, gently tugging him toward me. 

“How would you know,” he asked, still not looking at me. “The sky looks peaceful, an eternal heaven. I wouldn’t mind this sight being my last.”

“I know what you mean,” I replied, looking up at the blanket full of stars above us. That got him to look at me. I didn’t know him, he didn’t know me, yet I felt a pull to help him. I knew what it was like to suffer alone, and I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy. 

“Sometimes, I feel like I would prefer to live among the stars, watching others from above. I already feel like a spectator in my own life, as if I am merely a vessel for destiny to fulfill its course.”

He slipped down from the railing until his feet landed softly next to mine. His head slightly tilted as he considered my words. “Perhaps we’re all just destiny’s pawns,” he replied glumly. “I would be happiest living amongst these stars. Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in sorrow, unable to take a single breath for days on end.” He had such a deep sadness sketched within his eyes I began to wish I could help relieve his pain, if only for a moment. 

“My mom died last night. I don’t know how to come up for air anymore,” he whispered so quietly the wind almost carried his words before I could hear them. “If she’s in heaven I want to join her. She would smack me once I got there but I would be happier. I would at least have something, have someone.”

“What was she like?” 

“She was the bossiest woman you would’ve ever met but there was no one kinder or more hardworking than her. She worked three jobs just to support us after my father left, yet she always made sure to make time for me, even if it was just a few moments before I closed my eyes at night. She found the time to cook my favorite meals whenever she could and to attend the school events that mattered most to me,” he said with a faraway look in his eyes. “She had the kindest smile, one that could light up an entire room, and most of all, she would always be there when I was struggling. If I needed help or someone to talk to, she was there.” His eyes started to well up with tears, and when he closed his eyes, the dam broke. He didn’t make a sound but tears flowed down his cheekbone, ending their path on his now damp shirt. 

I wrapped my arms around him, hoping to convey everything I could in a single hug: compassion, empathy, comfort, anything that could take away even a little bit of his sadness. 

I stayed until his tears had stopped and his breathing had slowed. I stayed until his tension dissipated and until a spark of life had returned to his eyes. He was the first to pull away, his eyes swollen and red but now sparkling between the wisps of sadness were little sparkles of hope. He let out a deep breath and a faint “thank you” left his lips. Several moments of silence passed between us before he asked me “Why are you here? No person should be awake at this hour.”

“I can’t go home, or rather, I don’t want to,” I answered truthfully. 

He considered my reply, not pressing for more but I could feel his curiosity at my silence. Perhaps I would share later, but for right now the presence of another was enough to ease the pain. 

A gust of chilled air passed over us making me shiver. Goosebumps pricked my skin once more. 

“Do you want a sweater?” he asked, his arm outstretched with a hoodie from previously tied around his waist. I nodded, taking it when I noticed something. 

“Hey, that’s my necklace,” I commented in surprise. The golden chain with the amethyst stone was wrapped loosely around his wrist. He stared at it and looked at me equally confused. 

“I promise I wasn't trying to take it. I have no idea how it got there.”

“But the lady-“ I stopped mid-sentences, understanding dawning on me. I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. “Nevermind, may I?” I gestured towards his wrist. He raised his wrist and I unclasped it before wrapping it around my neck, welcoming the light weight of familiarity.

“It was a gift from my grandma,” I explained, “I thought I had lost it.” 

“Even though I don’t know how I got it I’m glad you got it back,” he said with a smile gracing his face, “it looks beautiful on you.” 

I responded with a grin of my own. I turned back to the landscape before us and he did the same with our hands intertwined.

Our hearts had been shattered by the world, but at least here, under the starry sky, we weren’t completely alone.