The Old Stone Bridge by R.T. Adams (cat reading book .txt) 📖

and books were what caught me. When I got out of the house, it was broad daylight, but I wanted to sleep, so I did.

When I woke up, I found myself laying in the ashes of Jenkley’s house. I rubbed my eyes and stretched. When I think about it, the old bridge shouldn’t even be where it used to be anymore, but when I got to the area, it was still standing. I walked over to a new sign, one that wasn’t there before. It stated that the destruction of the bridge was postponed until tomorrow, due to the business of a murder in House Kimball. I was relieved to see this, but at the same time, pained. I didn’t want one of my last, greatest memories of this town to be ruined, so I decided to do something about it. It was about time that we, the poor, take action for something we love. We’ve been treated like shit for the past fifty years, from my knowledge of my parents. It’s like we’re the rich’s toys. They watch us burning, fighting, and murdering each other. What kind of sick enjoyment is that? They know that this bridge was here much before this town was. The route that leads through the center of town and across the bridge was a trading route for North England to get to South England. There was a lack of trade routes, so they built one here, before this town was made. Now that England doesn’t use this anymore, the government here decides what to do with it. If I were able to rally enough of us, we’d surely be able to stop their plans. They’re just trying to use us, as their toys. They want to make us mad, to murder even more. My family’s bond with this bridge has lasted for about a century by now, when my great great great grandfather had been a merchant who used this route. He travelled from the big cities to the smallest towns, supplying them with all their needs. Food, water, anything. You’d think that nowadays, England would supply us, but they disowned us. It’s like we’re a different country. I didn’t do much this day, just sit under the bridge and ponder what exactly I should do, but I thought of nothing. I guess this old, glorious bridge will be stolen from us after all.

When I woke up, I found myself in my own home. I thought I was under the bridge when I fell asleep, but I guess not. However, I felt a jolting pain near my left shoulder. When I looked, my arm had been missing. What exactly happened last night? When I got up and looked out the cracks and holes of my home, I saw two men standing at my door, so I opened it. They’d explained what happened and why my arm was missing. It seems they tended to me while I was unconscious. I thanked them and they left. Apparently, part of the bridge had collapsed on me while I was asleep under the bridge. Now it seems like even my own memories are attacking me. When I walked outside, I saw people staring, whispering, and some even snickering. I just continued with my normal day, as best I could. When I finally got to the river, I saw a people crowding the bridge. They were commencing the destruction of the bridge. At first, I wondered why there was a crowd, then I remembered the sign. At that moment, I ran over and barged through the thick crowds and walls of people. It felt like I was trying to swim through rocks. When I finally got the the front, I saw a wrecking ball and a dozer. The dozer was slowly going towards the bottom, but I ran towards it. I wasn’t thinking at the time. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions, what could happen to me. I just ran. However, before I got there, I felt a sharp sting in my leg, and I went tumbling. Finally, I’d came to a splash at the bottom when I hit the river. A bullet in my leg, from an officer. Of course, my mind wasn’t on the right track anymore. My heart was set on saving this bridge, something many people call useless, but I still saw as a monument. I stood up, or tried, and continued towards the bridge. Another sting, near the same spot as before. My leg was becoming numb, but I could still feel that one area of burning, dissatisfying pain. By now, I was trying to hop on my left leg to the bridge. Why was I so loving to an inanimate object? Then, that’s when I saw something else. Golden hair and a velvet red dress. It had to be. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my left leg, then I crashed into the river water, covered in mud and some moss. I tried to erase my memories of her, but it was nearly futile. I crawled towards the bridge. Then, a pain, through my chest. I couldn’t move, but I was still just barely breathing. I didn’t want to lose my life, but nor did I want to lose the bridge. I didn’t want to run anymore. I wanted to protect something dear to me. But it looks like what seems right to you may be the wrong decision. It was painful to even breath now. My chest was tightening and it was becoming harder to breath. I could feel the river water flowing on my cheek. It was as cold as a boy’s freezing hands after a snowball fight. My vision was darkening, becoming blurry. The last thing I saw was the color gold.

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Text: Shikanosuke Maejima
Publication Date: 08-16-2015

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