The Tattooed Bridge

I just wrote this right now. I took a really good photo of a bridge and it inspired me.

A rusty gate, riddled with cob webs and vines, stood in defiance to me as I tried to see what was on the side over yonder. The gate stood, locked with chains long since forgotten and with fallow bars as if  a prison stood beyond this curious portal.

Looking through the sliver-brown chain links, cracking the vines away, I saw another entrance, or perhaps an exit.

Cars and cars rushed on under this bridge, oblivious to the discovery I had made. I had no intention of leaving this bridge unexplored.

The rusted lock resisted blow after blow with bull like tenacity and the bars. Ancient as they were, provided no leeway to every force I had tried.

As I pounded away at this stubborn gate, I caught glimpse of a hole in the bridges cage. I hopped up onto to the dirt platform surrounding it and climbed onto the cage. My fingers clutched the links with fear and my feet couldn’t find any footing. Looking down, I caught an eye full of the traffic that passed by underneath, wish to get home as fast as they could. I imagined my fate if I were to slip…

The hole, about the size of an small child, provided a hamster tube for my body. The rusty metal cut my forehead. Warm dark liquid began to pour from my wound, but I wiped it off and kept moving, My hands were full of soot and my clothes were gently layered in dust and plant material.

The bridge’s lower walls were riddled with tattoos of the voices unheard. The voices cried for peace, and they all spoke to me, craving that that has been long denied. As I trotted down the bridge, the voices grew louder, each insatiable with their pleas for justice! The bridge began to shake, the birds scattered in fantic fear, even the crs below ceased. My mind echoed with the voices�"banging on the inside like a drum.

The tattooed bridge fed into a cavernous entrance. The damp air aroused my sweat glands and caused my forehead to sting harshly. Under my feet thick and wet material made a rip with every step.  The peeps of the rats that made this there abode replaced the Voices, and the walls were coated in moss. The placed had an odor of dead vegetation and rust. The voices had since died out and I saw something novel.

Bars. Long cold bars stretching all the way to the top of the ceiling blocked my path. Behind these bars is something I will never forget.

I gazed at a family. A young son, no older than six, played with his strong father and the mother giggled with the merriment. Then, out of the corner of my eye, men that came out of the darkness, moved with the shadows. They crawled on the ceiling of the cavern, grunted inhuman snarls, barking with hate and rage at the family. Blood dripped from their jaws and they processed golden eyes.

The walls permeated with the barks and the growls and with bloodthirsty rage. The family, continued along with their joy. The father carried his son up in to the air and through him about, catching him jsust in time. The cave echoed with clawing and jaws snapping.

Then the family vanished, just as soon as they appeared. The father held his sons hand as they walked into the deeper part of the cavern, in the darkness. I yelled out for them, warning them of the impending doom that they will suffer. The rancor deafened my cries.

The creatures all raced after the unit, tripping over each other, with snarls of competitive hunger. I could only watch as they disappeared. I didn’t hear the cries of mercy that were to follow.

One of the beasts noticed me, turned its head in murderous curiosity and rushed the bars with tenacious hunger. I could smell the decaying flesh it held in its bowels and see the blood dripping from its fangs. Its eyes�"those deep portals into its soullessness�"were filled with hate and absolute inhumanity. I threw a rock at the creature, but it merely flinched and continued its assault on the gate.

I recalled a voice that I haven’t used.

“What do you want?” I asked, calmly with steadiness.

“…oul…man…ie” it snarled, apparently capable of speech.

“What is it that you want from man?”

“…eath…wishes it to all…man…”

A screeching ear blooding noise protruded for the interior of the cave. Those creatures moved in a frantic herd, slashings over others that were too slow. They each attacked, bit and ripped at the bars, each desired to eat my soul.

I ran. I did not look back. The voices again began to plea with me.

They said, ‘Nothing…can…steal our…souls”

I ran faster, not turning back, the gate was opened. I ran through and when I turned to lock it, I saw not a black mass of monsters, but a freeway. Cars and the gentle air tasseling my hair. I saw a freeway of people oblivious. I saw a freeway of people running down a road, with no return from the darkness. 

Author's Note

I just put my idea of the story down. My diction is usually more elevated just as my syntax. Therefore, ignore any grammar issues if you will, but if you must correct, be my guest.
Sound like a good idea?