n 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.