The Bridge

There was a space between two cliffs. A large chasm that separated two distinct lands, or at least they seemed distinct from the opposite view to each other.

They knew of each other well, for commerce needed to occur by crossing the gap between the two cliffs. The lands were not entirely depended on each other, but in crossing this gap they made sure that they were able to take what they needed and give up what they thought they could.

On either side of this gap was a large expanse of earthen-coloured rock. Strong reds, yellows and browns extended outward until the horizon seemed to consume them not in a sudden movement, but what could have been a fog, or some sort of degradation of detail.

In the sun it was strong and apparent. Almost vivid in its dullness. In the night there was not a thing that could be seen. Any time there was need to cross in the dark, those that did were more than able to carry their own sources of light that would give just enough.

It was, of course better to be robed under the sun. Sometimes, depending on the situation, it was also better to be masked. After a long distance on one side, the rocky, crevasse-filled landscape did give way to something a bit more lush and green, but of course this was relative to the predominant landscape. It would be much longer before reaching something that could be closer to something much more thick with vegetation.

Underneath and reaching to the horizon the land was significantly more flat, wide and open, but it was a space that one did not want to reach, for the fall was long and the chance of survival unlikely.

A singular bridge closed the gap and allowed for the entering of the other territory with ease. It was old, but it was sturdy.

Few travelers outside of those that were traders would cross. There were guards, but their positions were for the most part not required. More often they would be there for some form of assistance rather than anything that required some sort of security.

Often it was still safe to cross the bridge in winds or storms of various types, but there were times when the bridge needed to be closed.

Whilst this was considered something of little issue, there was the rising desire to build a new one, mostly in case something happened to the one that was already there, and so something considerably sturdier was being planned. It was rare for the opposing governing bodies to meet and so usually their meeting was something considered serious.

For the time being though, the bridge that was there remained the sole mode of crossing.

Advertisements

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
This entry was posted in Fiction and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.