Artwork by Rabidwire
She was standing under the old bridge that I always passed on my way home. Built sometime in the late nineteenth century, the newer road and rail bridges just a couple of hundred yards down the way had rendered it obsolete. Disused and uncared for, it had rapidly fallen into decline, now most of the central span had fallen into the river. There was a treacherous rail that still connected it all together, narrow and dangerous. It had become a rite of passage for local kids to cross. I remembered my own time, eyes squeezed tightly shut, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, completely convinced I would not make it then being amazed when I did.
I was walking along the footpath to my home, the one that took me past the bridge, when I saw her. She was wearing a dark dress, which fanned out from her waist like a gossamer bell. On her head was a small black hat and a short veil covered her eyes, but left the lower half of her face clear. I could see her scarlet lipstick from where I was, it contrasted starkly with her incredibly pale skin. She half turned and caught sight of me. I raised a hand in greeting, a gesture she returned before walking into the dark shadows which hung about the bridge like an enclosing blanket. I waited for a few moments, but she did not return to the fading sunlight where I could see her, so I shrugged my shoulders and continued home.
As I watched the mindless pap that the TV was providing under the debatable heading of entertainment, I found that the pale lady was intruding in my thoughts. As I tried to remember how she looked, I found that all that I could remember was her scarlet lips. A red so bright and alluring against her pale skin. Then I slapped myself on the forehead. Shes a goth, you fool, I told myself. It all seemed to make sense then, she probably was waiting for her boyfriend, and him I could picture all too clearly. Thin, as pale as her, long and unwashed dyed black hair, wearing all black with perhaps a sprinkling of silver jewellery. He would also have no idea of what lay behind the gothic tradition, its rich literary roots, of which vampires were just a part, not the whole as those fools believed. Satisfied, I tried to switch my brain off by seeing which celebrity was doing what in the jungle. It worked.
The pale lady was standing under the bridge again the next day. She was watching the river as it wound its way south, where it could reach the sea. As I approached the same spot where I had seen her turn from the day before, she turned to face me. A coincidence, I thought to myself. She waved shyly at me, and smiled. Again her lips held my attention. When she broke into a smile I found myself wanting to bound down the embankment, across the mud and leaves, to sweep her up in my arms and kiss those lips. As I had these thoughts, she turned and vanished into the shadows again. Once she was gone, I noticed that I was very aroused, so much so that I felt the need to run home and have a very cold shower.
Once I had dried and dressed myself, I sat down to finish some calculations for work on my computer. Time passed slowly, as it always does when you have to work at home, so I connected to the net. I decided to research the bridge the lady had stood under. It was strange, I have never thought of any female as a lady before, woman, girl, bird, bit of stuff, all of these yes, but never lady. I couldnt work out what it was that made me think that way. As I puzzled over my choice of description I also found some sites that gave histories of bridges in Britain. It took some searching, but I found a history of the ladys bridge. The second bridge of Joseph Carter-Brown, one of his earliest and most disappointing bridges. Built in 1898, the construction was simply and ably completed, due to the simplistic nature of its design. None of the flair that would be found in his later work is visible in this bridge. That was it. I searched other pages, but could find nothing more to add. Sitting at my computer, I felt a touch disappointed, I couldnt say why. Perhaps I had imagined her as a ghost and hoped to hear of an accident or suicide, but there was nothing. Sighing at my foolishness, I switched off the machine and headed for bed.
My dreams are always hazy, and I rarely remember them, yet that night I had a vivid dream of the pale lady. I watched as she danced for me, dressed as I had seen her, she dipped and whirled as though waltzing with an invisible partner. Then she sat on the floor, her dress spread out like a puddle of fabric around her, into which she began to sink. All the while she smiled at me, and I was utterly entranced, until she disappeared into the darkness that had once been her dress.
My alarm brought me to the real world, dispelling the vision of the patch of darkness getting smaller as though it too was falling into itself.
After work that day, I decided to vary my routine, so that I would not pass the bridge at the same time. I couldnt force myself to avoid the bridge entirely, but thought if I could go past later, then I might learn more about what she did there. To make myself stick to my decision I convinced my friend Paul to come for a drink with me. It wasnt hard, Paul went to the pub most nights after work.
As we sat in the neon light of the trendy bar he had insisted we go to, I attempted to explain to Paul about the lady under the bridge. He took a large gulp from his pint and eyed me warily. So whats the punchline?
Sorry?
He placed his glass deliberately on the table while staring me in the eye, a trick I knew for a fact he practised at home. A guy sees a lady in Victorian dress under an old decrepit bridge on his way home. Sounds like the start to a long, surreal and not very funny joke.
I shook my head. No, its not a joke. Look, come back with me, youll see her.
He snorted in disbelief then demanded we have a few more beers before we left, so that he was in the proper mental state to see her.
It didn't take us long to walk there from the train station. Paul spent the entire time moaning: where it had rained during the day the hard-packed surface of mud that made up the path had turned somewhat squelchy and he was insisting that it was trying to suck his shoe off.
Its not that deep, I told him.
I couldnt give a crap how deep it is. These shoes cost a bloody fortune and theyre getting wrecked so that I can look at some woman youve made up, he told me.
I sighed and continued around the bend so that I could see the bridge. I didn't notice Paul stop to take a piss against one of the trees that lined the path.
As the shadowed area where she stood came into my view, I saw her step forward so that she would be visible. I could see that she was smiling, happy that I had come to see her again. Just as suddenly her smile vanished and she turned and walked into the shadow.
I wanted to protest, what had I done wrong? Then Paul came cursing around the bend. He spotted the bridge and snorted. That it? A bit run down isnt it Tom? He looked around, searching for her, though I now realised that she was for me alone to see. Where is she then?
I shook my head. You took too long mate. She left.
He gave me a long hard stare, then muttered Wanker under his breath before turning and leaving.
I stood for an hour, waiting, just to see if she would come again. Just as I was about to leave I saw a hand in a lace glove come from beneath the bridge and wave farewell to me. I smiled all of the way home.
It became a comfortable routine, a wonderful part of my life. Everyday I would walk home from work, and watch my pale lady, on the weekends I would take a picnic and sit facing her all day. Ours was a relationship untainted by the stupid things we could have said. We did not need sweet nothings whispered in a bed. Ours was pure, the only sadness was when she would withdraw to the shadows. She could not stand to be seen by any other than myself. I grew very angry with the thoughtless actions of people who would disturb our love. Yet she would not allow me to vent my anger, as she would always appear, and with a tilt of her head let me know that I was not to harm these people who could not know of what they did. I accepted her choices, for I saw them to be right and just. At night she would visit me in my dreams, she would dance or sit, all the while smiling with those lips that held me so entranced. That spring into summer was the best time of my life.
Then one day I had to stay late and work on a project, it was vital that all the work be completed for the next day. My whole team had to work right through the night, it was hard but we completed the project just in time. We were sent home that morning and told to take a couple of days off in reward.
As I walked home I realised that it was the first time since we had met that I had not seen my lady, and I had not told her that I would not be coming. I became very worried that she would reject me for my failings, and I near sprinted to the bridge. She was not there to greet me. I waited for two hours and she did not come. As I was about to go, saddened that work had put paid to one of the finest relationships I had ever had, a thought came to me. I had made her wait for an entire day, maybe that was what she intended for me. That was it, I had to suffer as she had. So I waited, people gave me all kinds of looks as they passed, ranging from pity to outright disgust, but I did not care. I was wearing my work suit, sitting on the slightly damp and muddy path and staring intently at the shadows, waiting for a sign of forgiveness. As I sat and waited, I thought about how my lady must have felt, wondering if I had abandoned her, if I would ever return, and knew that my punishment was fitting, for I had to endure as she had. As night began to fall and the light began to fade, she had still not appeared. My heart began to fail me, I had sat for at least two hours longer than I had made her wait. Perhaps she was too angry with me, maybe there was to be no forgiveness. I didn't know, but I vowed to remain until the first light of dawn, then if she had not returned to me, I would accept that I was not to be forgiven. Time passed slowly in my mind, all I could think of were her lips, how I would never see them smile again.
I checked my watch, it was nearly four in the morning, another hour or so and the light would begin to break, and my love would have abandoned me. Then as I was about to get up and leave I heard a voice whisper my name. It was soft and warm and my heart swelled from the sound of it, for I knew it had to be my lady. In her forgiveness she had broken our silence. I raised myself painfully up on knees that popped like gunshots in the quiet night. In the fading moonlight I could see her silhouette against the reflecting water. I began to whisper thanks to anyone who would listen, and tears of joy began to roll down my cheeks. Leaning against a tree to support myself, because my legs no longer could, I stood and smiled. She had forgiven me, and my world would be right again. I knew now why she had waited so long, I had been made to wait half as long again and would do every time I let her down.
The sun rose and I could see she had raised her veil so that I might see her eyes. They were sapphire blue, brilliant and sparkling in the light of the rising sun. I felt my love for her growing at this gesture. Then without warning she dropped her veil and vanished once more into the shadows. I couldnt understand why, we had just made an amazing connection, and it was too early for anyone to be walking along here. I turned to look each way along the path. To my surprise I saw Paul heading my way, along with two police officers.
I offered them a good morning, noting the look of pity on Pauls face. The taller of the two policemen asked me if I would go with them. I said I would rather not, as I was enjoying my time by the river. The policeman became insistent, I grew angry, and Im sorry to say there was a bit of a scuffle. It ended up with me in handcuffs being led away, yelling that I would be back as soon as I could.
It turned out that Paul had passed me in the morning as I sat waiting for my lady to appear, and he had gone past again in the evening, noting that I had not moved. I hadnt spotted him either time, being caught up in my own thoughts. He was already worried about me, after I had tried to show him my lady that day. Apparently he had kept a quiet eye on me, and finally concluded that I had cracked. Which is why I have spent the last three weeks in this hospital. It has been hard, being away from my lady for this long. At last I have convinced them that I am over her, that I don't believe she is real. They are going to let me out, as I have not harmed anyone, I now see why my lady would not allow me to. I know Im not crazy, its just that my lady is selective.
I have been away a long time now, its going to be hard, but I can wait four and a half weeks, my love will sustain me. Maybe now she will let me be closer to her, I may be allowed under the bridge. What possibilities lie ahead of me!