The Bridge

“Good morning, Dad.” Liam brushed the match against the striking surface of the matchbox. The flame drifted in front of the photo, softly illuminating an image showing an older gentleman and young boy, around 11, dressed in hiking gear. Liam lit a small candle and looked upon the photo remembering his father, a tall and solidly built man with bright eyes and a great, proud smile as he wrapped his arm around his son’s shoulders in the photograph. It was Liam’s first backpacking trip in the Hoh Rainforest of Washington. Liam smiled proudly in the photo. He held a large walking stick, a large natural branch he had found on one of their hikes, and adorned with strings of rocks that dangled from the top. He had been collecting rocks on their adventures and stood triumphantly tall, holding the stick that towered slightly over him. His eyes glossed over the fond memories of his and his dad’s yearly hikes around the U.S. After Liam graduated high school, he and his dad built their cabin just outside the touristy trails of the park in the Hoh Rainforest. It was their favorite place to hike and camp. The rainforest was mystical with unique sounds, lush overflowing greenery, and just a touch of eeriness, great for ghost stories. Liam missed his father’s scary camp stories. As he got older, he often wondered if his father was making the stories up or passing on covert information about the rainforest. A high-pitched whistle brought Liam back to the present. He opened the cabin’s curtains, and a foggy, dismal twilight flowed through the windows. The fire from the night before crackled and spit tiny embers as though to protest its looming death. As he finished his coffee, he couldn’t get the thought of one of his father’s stories out of his head about a bridge. An uneasiness rumbled at the pit of his stomach, but his mind fought the ridiculousness of it.

“Never go off the Eastern trail to the bridge,” his father often stated sternly on their hikes. His father insisted it was because the area’s vegetation is dense due to people not venturing in that direction after reports of hikers gone missing and reports of human-like creatures taking the hikers. So the area has been left alone. The bridge would also be dangerous from lack of use.

Liam had continued backpacking around the states, especially Hoh, after his father’s untimely passing. That Eastern section was the only area Liam had not explored, and being an adult with years of trekking experience, he was confident he’d be fine.

Liam threw water on the burnt, hot wood of the fireplace. The hazy whitish, gray smoke lurched out to him in disagreement. He grabbed his pack and walked down the creaky steps of the porch and into the dense fog.

As Liam reached a trail, he continued Northeast til it was time to veer off the trail. The ground was soft, slightly muddy from last night’s rain. Lush green patches of ferns and plants cover the forest floor and form a subtle, tiny natural border along the winding trail. Dull, clacking sounds from the small rocks tied to strings on the walking stick accompanied the morning songs of the birds. Near the bottom of the maple stick is a hunting knife resting in a sheath rigged to rotate.

Liam took in all the forest had to offer; a variety of trees at different heights, Sitka spruce trees towering over 300 feet, massive tree trunks arched over the trail dripping in moss, and dew glistening from sunlight peaking through open patches of the dense foliage. The fog was starting to lift, while the humidity lingered heavily. Liam walked along the trail as tiny water droplets rested on his face and jacket.

A few hours passed and Liam finally reached where he would veer off trail and go due East. He sat down on a large fallen tree limb and ate his lunch. A couple of hikers going South passed. Pleasantries were exchanged. Liam noticed the birds were a little more quiet. The occasional mews and chirps of Elk were no longer heard. He gathered his things and forced a new trail to the long-forgotten bridge.

Liam had only a couple of miles to go. He marched along the thick brush, balancing his body when he stepped on jagged rocks hidden beneath the brush. He lifted his knee high over fallen limbs creeping along the forest floor, stopping once in a while to listen. Leaves rattled in the slight breeze, and long ancient moss swayed gently, but silence surrounded this part of the woods. He didn’t hear any birds, elk, not even a tiny rustle amongst the flora adorning the ground. He continued glancing at his watch. The sun would not set for another few hours, yet it was getting darker. The massive trees Liam maneuvered around stretched up to the sky and created a canopy of limbs and leaves over the forest hindering the light from the sun.

Liam rubbed his arms as the air became chillier. A faint boom was heard way off in the distance. He stopped and listened. Silence followed. Liam and his father would hear random booms while camping in the Hoh forest. It was just one of those odd and unexplainable noises that was normal for these tranquil and mysterious woods. He continued forward. Within minutes, a disturbance was heard amongst the bushes a few feet from Liam. He looked to the noise expecting to see a bear, elk, or cougar. The movement stopped. Again, silence followed.

He continued looking for signs of the bridge. After some time had passed, he stopped abruptly, startled by the rustling sound now behind him at what seemed to be a short distance. Glancing over his shoulder, he thought he caught sight of something white lowering itself into the thick foliage. He stared, breathing a little heavier. Liam whistled. The wind rushed by, causing the leaves of the surrounding trees to chime softly, but nothing else moved or made a sound. He looked back occasionally to make sure nothing was following him.

Liam spotted a tilted, decomposed, wooden sign with moss growing up the base and scattered about the corners and top revealing the bridge was ahead. He approached the rough-looking hanging bridge. Thick wooden planks running parallel along the bridge were warped and chipped, blackened in spots, and wet. Some planks were missing. The rope holding the bridge together looked solid, but moss draped over the guide ropes and past the planks. The ends of the moss, wispy and light, deadened gray, blew along with the breeze.

Liam approached the first plank and could see down the side of the gorge to the river. A light fog hung around the opposite end of the bridge but looking at the width of the gorge, clear from the fog, Liam didn’t think the distance to cross was a long one. He stepped onto the first plank, his boots slipping on the thin covering of wet moss. Liam grabbed the waist-high guide rope, slick moss slipping through his fingers. He waited for the quivering of the bridge to settle down. The creaking of the old planks fell into silence and Liam took another careful step, then another and another, slipping a little here and there. Midway, he stopped and looked out over the gorge admiring the beauty of the landscape and the peaceful sounds the rush of the river brought.

The wooden planks under his feet suddenly rippled. Liam gripped the rope, concentrating on his balance. Something of considerable weight stepped onto the bridge. The fog lingering at the end of the bridge concealed who made its way onto the bridge.

“Hello!” shouted Liam over the rivers’ burbling. The bridge rippled, again.

“Hello! The bridge is old. Let me get back to the other side before you embark,” shouted Liam to the person on the other side. He hoped it was a person feeling uneasy that there was no response. Liam turned carefully on the slick planks to get back towards the start of the bridge. Startled, he stopped. A thick, gray wall of fog had cloaked the walkway where Liam had entered. He glanced down at the river and behind him. The heavy mist crept from either end of the bridge but not from the river below.

The wooden planks rippled beneath him, this time more violently and from the direction of where he first stepped onto the walkway. A rotten wood slat broke in two from the violent disruption causing Liam to fall to his knees. Grabbing the rope tightly for it was slippery from the moss, he helped himself up and steadied himself.

“Stop! Get off the bridge til I can exit!” The fog from either side of the bridge slowly approached Liam. Breathing heavily and cautiously, he took a step forward halting his movements. The knuckles of his hands turned white as he gripped the rope. A deep, rolling, guttural sound came from within the fog just in front of him. He unbuttoned a loop on his pack, turning the walking stick upside down and removing the sheath. It fell through a decomposed hole formed in two of the planks. He rotated the knife held the spear toward the noise and started yelling, “Aaah, aaah, get out of here!” Liam bent his knees and pushed his boots down on the planks causing a rippling of the bridge to scare off the animal. The animal screeched and reached out to Liam. He fell back onto the wood in shock, the bridge dangerously swaying over the gorge.

Standing up quickly and regaining his balance, he held out his spear, listening, staring into the fog, trying desperately to steady his breathing. Slowly, the arm appeared again, long sharp, pointed claws, dirty and bloody, attached to a human-like hand, but grossly pale white, bony, and elongated. The arm was unnaturally long and just as emaciated as the hand. The claws playfully waved, trying to touch Liam. A face began to materialize just as he stabbed the underside of the forearm with his spear. The thing screeched and fell back, disappearing into a swirl of fog.

Behind him, a screech intertwined with croaked sounds came forth, and the bridge forcibly waved, bringing Liam to his knees. The bridge shook while he braced himself, trying not to fall through one of the missing boards. He looked up to see a grayish, white being, too thin to be a human, with extremely long legs and arms rushing at him. It screamed, revealing cramped, sharp teeth surrounding a black pit for a mouth. Its eyes were hollow, oozing black liquid.

Liam swung his spear at the creature’s legs causing it to fall back. He rushed back to where he entered the bridge gripping one hand to the rope and holding his spear in the other hand out in front of him. He could scarcely see through the fog when the other creature appeared right at his side rushing into him. Almost back flipping over the rope, Liam slammed his spear onto the bridge, locking it into a space between planks, and pulled himself upright. He kicked at the being as it violently swiped its long arms at Liam. He could feel the air rush past as the claws nearly missed his face. The second creature appeared behind the other, shrieking frantically. The bridge rocked back and forth uncontrollably as both beings appeared in and out of the dense fog, like film skipping on a reel. A black-eyed face with teeth would flash in front of Liam, then a bloodied clawed hand. The creatures were competing to get Liam. One of them, close to him, slipped through a space where a plank was missing. He stomped on the being, pushing it through the gap. It fell into the gorge, its screams echoing off the rocks. The other creature screamed in unison as Liam plunged his spear through its chest. Tumbling back into the fog, Liam struggled to see where it was. He could hear gurgling sounds and strange muffled whimpers. Then he noticed a foot and part of the leg twitching while it rested on a rotten piece of board.

Liam moved quickly off the bridge. Reaching the portal, he took out his hatchet and hacked the ropes of the hanging bridge. On the last strike, Liam leaped back to the ground, the wooden bridge gave way and disappeared into the fog.