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The Quest by Elad Nostaw
An impending feeling of doom encroached in my bones, as I approached the bridge. It looked as if it had been there for years. It was in a bad state of disarray, and I almost turned back but it was the only way across, and I did not want to go back, and have to make the long trek around. That would set my journey back days and it was important that I arrive on time. I began by shaking it and as soon as I started, loose boards began to drop. This did nothing for my confidence in the ole fellow. It creaked, as it swayed in the high winds that were predominant in this neck of the woods. As I looked down into the gully below, and what it offered me, a sudden chill over took my thoughts. It was a great ways to the bottom and I doubt survival was an option. I could barely see the river snake thru the fog, for the distance had the effect of making it look like a tiny trickle, as it meandered, in and out of the patches of mist. The jagged cliffs that dotted its side assured me of one thing: It would take a while to fall and not without great pains. I collected my thoughts and, after much prodding from the side of my subconscious that maintains a death wish, I placed my foot on the bridge. It shuddered and creaked to life, slowly swinging, and I immediately grabbed the makeshift rope used as a temporary handrail, and held on. I sidestepped, one foot at a time, carefully holding on to the thick rope, as I did. I had made what I felt was great progress so far, but while looking down into the Great Divide below, time slows down. I could hear my heartbeat and it seemed to draw time to a slow crawl. I know this because, as I looked up for a second, the distance I had traveled was a mere pittance of what I had assumed and the worst part was ahead of me. Looking down was not much help, for the ole bridge had rafters missing from its original structure, and you cannot help but notice the great drops thru the holes. This impeded my movement, but at the same time kept me from slipping thru, to what was certain death. After what seemed to take an eternity to cross, but what was in reality only about 20 yards, I reached a really open spot in the bridge. The boards here were missing more than at any other portion in the bridge, and, I think, had not my quest been so important, I would have turned back. It was obvious a jump of some kind must be attempted, but what kind remained unclear. I studied the bridge and, for a second, I thought it might be studying me back! As I looked at each option to land, that portion of the bridge shuddered in the wind. It was almost as if it was saying "Come on! I dare you!" Any sane individual would most certainly have turned back, but if I were sane, I wouldn't have taken this quest. If I were sane I wouldn't even have been in this trade. Oh no, it was obvious to the layman that I had no sanity at all, and thus it was the bridge or I. I am stubborn by nature, and so I decided that trickery was the best option. I surveyed the situation, made a plan, and then acted as if I was pursuing another option. In other words, I was looking at the safer spot to jump at, to the right, but in actuality was going to jump to the left. It appeared to be working. The right side seemed to shudder more, as if a wizard had cast a spell on that portion of the bridge. I looked and in a moment of extreme strength, or some might say stupidity, leaped, landing on the boards to the left. Just as I did, the boards to the right fluttered in the wind and fell quickly a vast distance below. It was then that I knew I had made the right decision. I was standing in safety, and, for the moment, congratulating myself in the intelligent choice I had made but as is so often the case with men, I was arrogant and the bridge quickly put me in my place. The boards gave loose below my feet and, as I fell, I caught a grip of the boards that had not broken, to either side. As I caught my grip, it placed a quick amount of stress on the ole guy, and it shook violently in the breeze. The stress on the ropes, and the wind whistling under the rafters mimicked sounds and, for just a minute, it sounded as if the bridge was laughing at me. I looked below and the vast space seemed to be calling my name. This was not a thought I relished, so I began pulling myself up, though it took all my strength, and continued my journey. The hardest part was now behind me. I'm not one, normally, to make fun of nature but after having survived the scare that I did, I felt confident that I could tackle anything else, the bridge offered me. Do bridges read minds? Who knows, but it was then that the ropes, from the side I had just passed, gave way. The bridge lurched and the end, I mentioned, fell. I held on for dear life, as the bridge swung to the side I needed to get to, and I felt great pain as it slammed into the rocks on the opposite side. I hung there precariously and had numerous wounds. Looking at my side there was a large gash, not fatal, but large enough to know that I would have a scar to remind me who was the boss on this day. It was at least 40 feet to the summit, where the rest of the bridge was clinging. I began pulling myself up but it was such a steep climb I tired easily. I was none too glad to see the old man standing at the summit looking at me. I motioned to him to pull me up and, though he was old, it was quite apparent he had great strength. I watched as this large man pulled me up, foot-by-foot of the rope. He talked to me, but due to the high winds I could not really understand him. He looked to be in his 60's. He was in great shape, I assume, due to the fact that he was hoisting me up, when I could not. I watched his strong hands, as I neared my destination foot-by-foot. After I reached the summit I could better understand him, and he invited me in for food and drink. I accepted his hospitality and we sat at a wooden table. He poured the drink and asked me "What brings you to this neck of the woods, and why did you cross that rickety old bridge when about 400 feet around the corner there's a brand new one, that someone had built?" I just looked frustrated at him, reached inside my Fed Ex jacket and handed him the standard Fed Ex Overnight Letter. He laughed and his laughter, of course, was contagious and I began laughing too. We drank our coffee together and said our "Good-byes!" Then I took the other bridge back, which took all of 10 minutes, to my van. In consolation, he promised to write to Fed Ex and tell them of the great lengths I had taken to arrive with his package. That in a sense was good and bad. It showed my desire at this new job, but also it showed a slight bit of my human stupidity!
The End |
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