BRIDGE OVER THE PANNY

BRIDGE OVER THE PANNY
[With thanks to Edgar Allan Poe]

His name was Stefan Mix and people said that he had a terrific imagination. It was quite useful when he was telling stories to his friends but it also lead him to create all sorts of ghosts in his mind. As he arrived at the bridge that Halloween night he was blaming his imagination for causing the goose bumps that hit him. What else could it have been but his imagination? The bridge was quite normal; a foot bridge; the sort of bridge that you could find all over the country. It crossed the Panny, that’s the nick name for the river in our town and it gave you a short cut. You would have to walk an extra mile and a quarter if you didn’t use it. Most people walked the extra. That’s because the bridge had developed a reputation. Ever since Johnny Morris was found lying face down in the river. No one could say why a happy go lucky boy of ten with lots of friends ended up as fish meat. But the bridge had something sinister about it before that happened. It’s a narrow foot bridge with wooden slats across so that you can see the river between them. Sometimes the slats go missing when they get well rotted. That leaves quite a big hole to step over. The distance to the other side looks much longer than it should do. There could be a dip at each end which gives you a false perspective. Or maybe it’s the trees which bend over the river. They have long hanging branches which seem to grope towards you in the wind. Then there are the sides. They bulge out in the middle. It felt weird to Stefan, as if you could trip and fall in. But he was tough was not thinking of that.
Ring Ring 1 He took out his mobile and listened to the message.

“The waters seamed and scarred into a thousand conflicting channels, burst suddenly into frenzied convulsion – heaving, boiling, issuing – gyrating in gigantic & innumerable vortices, & all whirling and plunging.”

“What the hell was that? Very funny, I don’t think” he said.

Anyway what if he did fall in, it wasn’t too far and the river wasn’t very deep and Stefan was a hard case, he didn’t get scared. But the water looked mean and menacing. It was greenish grey and it swirled. If you looked inside the swirl you could almost see an arm disappearing into the pool. But he had the solution to that too. The answer was not to look down.

Ring ring2.
“What now?”
He listened to the message.
“The edge of the whirl was represented by a broad belt of gleaming spray with a swaying and sweltering motion, and sending forth to the winds an appalling voice, half shriek, half roar, such as not even the mighty cataract of Niagara ever lifts up in its agony to Heaven”.

“Whoever’s on the phone is weird. He sounds kinda old fashioned and I don’t know the number” he said when the message was over.

All the guys at Kings Meadow thought that he was tough. He could stand up to the teachers and always won the fights in the playground. He had lots of friends. They went to him for protection. Stevie called that night for help. He was having trouble with two boys who lived next door. Stevie was a good source of lots of things. The week before he loaned Stefan two new computer games so he owed him. Stefan said he would be right over and that meant crossing the bridge and he was going over; he could beat it; he wasn’t scared of anything.
First he texted the message sender.

‘Up urs Mr. Creepy. Get a life’. 

His heart was beating fast. He could feel it rattling against his ribs. His mouth was kinda dry . He didn’t like the way the mist was rising off the river that night. It was like that the night that Johnny ended up in the water. It seemed to be moving around at the other side of the bridge. The trouble was he couldn’t see the other side properly. Just the eddies and movement of the mist. He could feel it cold on his face and it made his hair wet.’

He saw a film once it was set in France ages ago. It was in Victorian times and there was mist and fog swirling about; a man appeared out of the mist. He was dressed in a long black coat. The man had an evil grin on his face and he had a knife in his hand. He walked out of sight and then there was an awful blood curdling scream and a girl was found lying on the ground with her throat cut.

Ring ring3.
“Not again.”
“In a small yard behind the house lay the corpse of the old lady, with her throat so entirely cut that, upon an attempt to raise her, the head fell off. The body, as well as the head, was fearfully mutilated – the former so much so as to retain any semblance of humanity”.

“What a weirdo! OK I am here now and I’m going across that bridge. I can get across it, I just have to concentrate.”
Stefan took one step and then another.
“Slowly does it.” He said.
He had taken five steps before he noticed the sweat trickling down his back.
“ What’s that,” he yelped.
He could swear that he felt something touching his trouser leg? Was it his imagination again?
“I won’t look at it, if I do, it will mean that I believe something is there.”

The mist was thicker, it was so thick that he couldn’t see what was happening; he could only just see his shoes.

“Oh no what is that?” he said.

He felt something brush his leg. Something was trying to take hold of him and pull him.

“I can kick if away I’m sure” he said.
He kicked it hard and his leg broke free. He could keep walking; he just had to put one foot in front of another and keep moving across the bridge. “That’s better I’m making progress but it’s taking ages to get over and each step is sapping my strength.”

He felt the thing touching his ankle again. It was cold and slithery. It felt like it was trying to grasp him; pull him. It tightened and dragged his feet. It was so hard to go on. But he kept going he had to. The thing wrapped itself around his other leg. it was pulling him; it pulled him off balance.
“Oh no, I’m falling."
Stefan hit his head on the bridge.
All the breath was knocked out of his body. Everything went dark; it was just mist and blackness.

“It won’t get me I swear it won’t; I’ll crawl; I must keep going.”
Stefan felt desperate; then he saw something in front of him; he thought that it was the end of the bridge.”
He soon became certain that he could see it. He didn’t have far to go. If he could pull the thing off and crawl to the end of the bridge he would be safe. Then he remembered that he didn’t have to pull it off; he had a knife in his pocket. His Swiss army knife, he could feel it in his hand as he opened the blade. The slithery frond started to pull away as if sensing what was going to happen. Stefan cut right through the slimy thing and it fell off his leg. It wouldn’t try anything again, not when Stefan had his knife. He crawled forward, gasping and crying but he was going to make it.

“I promise that I’ll be good and never do anything bad again if I make it to the end of the bridge. Please God, It’s a deal with you God, I promise I will keep my word just let me get off the bridge.”

Not far to go; he was going to make it. He felt the gravel and the grass under his face.

“I swear that I will never go over that bridge ever again. Oh thank you, God, thank you.”

Stefan lay a few minutes getting his strength back.

Ring ring4
He answered his mobile.
“I struggled no more, but the agony of my soul found vent in one loud, long, and final scream of despair. I felt that I tottered upon the brink – I averted my eyes…”

The mist was very thick; He got up and started walking towards Stevie’s house. But then he looked down and he could see water, green grey water; he saw it between the slats. He was back on the bridge and he couldn’t see the other side. How had it happened?

“Please don’t let me be on the bridge again. I can’t get off here on my own. Help, help, someone help me please.”

It was no good the mist just soaked up the sound of his voice.
He took one step forward and felt a cold, slithery thing like a frond attach itself tightly to his right ankle; he tried to keep walking but another one wrapped itself around his other ankle like a strap. It pulled him over onto his back. He was kicking hard but it made no difference. He was being pulled downwards, through the wooden slats. He pushed his feet against the bridge side and tried to brace himself. He was shouting his head off but it was no good. He was being pulled through the bridge. He grabbed his knife and opened the blade trying to free himself again. But the frond was too quick; it pulled one leg very hard. He jerked over to the side and lost his grip on the knife; he heard the splash as it hit the water. What could he do? It was like he had gone thin and could be pulled right through the bridge. He felt as though his strength was going down the tubes.

“I am going to hold on tight I will not be pulled through,” he shouted.

But the force pulling him was so strong he couldn’t stop it.

“Get off me. HELP, HELP, OH PLEASE HELP.”

His fingers were slipping; he had been pulled through the bridge and he was clinging on to the bottom of it. He could hold on no longer. He had been dragged into the water.
It was cold. It was too cold. He was going under, being pulled down and he couldn’t force his way back up. Whatever pulled him down was keeping him there.

“Hold my breath, hold my breath, I must hold my breath, hold it, hold it.” Everything is dark and wet and cold, so cold, so, so cold and dark,……

Ring ring5
“The End”

The messages were from:
Ring ring1&2 Edgar Allen Poe’s story ‘A Descent into the Maelstrom’
Ring ring3 ‘The Murders in the Rue Morgue’
Ring ring4 ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’
Ring ring5 From me.

September 2007: Revised February 08; Revised May 08
1870 Words