A Bridge to Disunity (1)
1013 Words
One cold night.
The hooded figure is up to their usual antics again.
“Alright, what object should I turn into a monster next? Well, it should be as strong as steel, but should also take advantage of the power of water.”
They then come across a float fashioned out of a motorcycle trailer. The float is decorated to look like a bridge – a truss bridge, to be exact.
“Hmm... looks like this has been left unattended for days. Or maybe it was destined for the trash. Oh well. It will no longer be trash once I have this.”
The figure presents the magical object to the bridge-shaped trailer.
The trailer then absorbs the energy and mutates into a monster.
Its first words are...
“Ha ha ha! I'm getting sick of just being laid on the wayside! I need some action, real quick!”
“Alright then... Bridge to Terrorbithia. For your baptism... go do whatever you want. I don't care.”
“Much obliged, my master! I can't wait to whip my future victims into shape. But first, I'm getting a little thirsty.”
The bridge monster then heads to a nearby small artificial lake that is located between two moderately-sized middle-class houses.
“Hmm... this should be enough to quench my thirst!”
The Bridge to Terrorbithia then lets out a pipe from its bridge-shaped head, shoots the pipe into the lake, and then sips the water like a straw.
In just a minute, the water is gone.
“Alright! I'm energized! Time to look for my victims...”
As the monster has finished drinking and promptly leaves for his usual monster deeds...
The now-empty lake will trigger a schism in the immediate neighborhood.
The next morning.
Two middle-aged African-American men are preparing to savor the morning breezes that sweep into their own houses' front porches.
But Joseph Charles Parsons and Marius Glover – the two men who are patriarchs of their own nuclear families – are in for an unexpected rude awakening.
The artificial lake, which was built years before the Parsons and Glover families settled permanently in Rain Marginal, was teeming with freshwater that provided the immediate neighborhood with fresh fish as well as cooler air due to a wonderful thing called evaporation.
But now, the the patriarchs find nothing but a huge hole that is around ten feet deep.
No sooner do their own circulatory systems boil, and they readily confront each other at the mouth of the now-empty lake.
“You... You did this, didn't you?”
“Why would I? I surely won't have the balls to hire a huge water-draining truck! Look at my garage! Surely, a truck that is designed to hold this much water ain't gonna fit there! But that garage of yours...”
“What of it? One such truck won't fit in mine, either!”
“Then who did this? You? Then why? Because your pet goldfish wants an entire lake to itself?”
“Don't you dare drag my precious pet into this, Marius! I bet you drained the lake water because the water in your Jacuzzi isn't enough!”
“That's not true! Fine, then! Because of this, we're breaking off our friendship and that of our families starting right now! I'll make sure you disgusting folks will never see us again!”
“Fine by me. I also don't want to see your family's smug mugs that already ruined my family's morning.”
The last the two see of each other are angry stares as they head back into their own houses and slam the doors and windows shut, never to open for the foreseeable future.
Essentially, the mornings of the two once close-knit families are spoiled.
It's a fair Tuesday morning at work.
I have three transcription jobs for me to finish this morning, and I'm already used to the motions.
I try not to get too distracted by everything else around me, since I highly uphold efficiency.
11am then ticks. I'm done with the three jobs. Now to browse the news casually.
O ho, what is this news item that's currently making the rounds on social media?
Two Families Argue over Drained Man-Made Lake
Two families in Kierkegaard Street, Rain Marginal, Mississippi are currently hostile to each other over the issue of a man-made lake, which is situated between the families' residences and was discovered to be completely drained of its water just this morning.
While local authorities are still investigating the sudden cause of this loss of water, the Parsons and Glover families pinpointed the blame on each other; and as a result, their friendship that lasted for 35 years drove to a screeching halt.
The lake was built 75 years ago, long before the two families settled here in Rain Marginal, as an effort to bring back the neighborhood's natural beauty.
OK, this is kinda fishy.
Who would have the balls to completely drain a lake all by himself?
A monster, that's who.
Right now, I'm just waiting for lunch break to start before I can spring into action.
12:07pm. Kierkegaard Street.
Not really that far from the hospital.
All I can see are a huge hole and two houses that are sealed shut as if preparing for a hurricane and are situated near the hole.
The hole is being cordoned off as police are on the scene to investigate.
And as I'm about to ask an on-scene investigator to learn more about the nitty-gritty...
A monster suddenly invades the street, prompting the civilians to flee and the police to open fire on the fiend.
The monster's face is a compact version of a truss bridge.
Now that's the strangest-looking monster I've ever seen so far.
“Now who's ready to whip it?”
As I hide behind a tree, I can see the bridge-faced monster pulling out his whip, and he's deftly deflecting the bullets the police are firing at him using such whip.
“Your little pea-shooters aren't even scratching my paint job! Ha!”
And then, with a masterful manipulation of his whip, he is able to disarm the cops' guns.
In desperation, the cops all charge at him, but the monster has other plans.
He lets out a telekinetic wave that penetrates the cops' mental faculties, torturing their psyches so much that they cannot take the pressure anymore and simply drop to the ground, unconscious.
“I've barely just even started. Now who else is gonna play with me?”
Me, that's who!
I bravely show up.
“A ha! This looks more fun.”
“Then suit yourself.”
I initiate my transformation.
“Gjallarhorn... Gjallar-form!”
- Writer
