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“Bridge of Hope” – FWG Flash Fiction for 6/29/2024

Updated: Jul 12

A message this week.

The prompt is:






The bridge celebrated its two thousandth year quietly. Long gone was the pounding cadence of sandaled, then armored, then booted feet carrying legions of soldiers to battle. The Romans built her and used her and cared for her over the course of five centuries. She bore the weight of knights on horseback and their men-at-arms, serfs and freemen, alike. Later, she felt the tramping of doughboys, happy to break step during their short march over her arch. She was thankful when her narrow width was too narrow for the Tigers, Panzers, and Sherman tanks driving each other back and forth across the narrow stream she spanned.

When, at last, the countryside enjoyed a generational peace, she was happy that her only burdens were joggers, baby strollers, and couples walking hand-in-hand. Carrie and James were one of those couples.

“I love this spot,” Carrie said as she stopped and pulled James to the parapet. She listened to the gurgling stream for a moment. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“It wasn’t always this way,” came a voice from behind. The couple turned around, but no one else was on the bridge. “I’ve seen much death and strife.” The female voice was mournful.

“Who—who are you?” Carrie asked, her fear evident in her voice.

“I am the spirits of all the stones piled here, speaking with one voice to give you a warning. We do not wish to be used to wage war ever again, but we see storm clouds gathering.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Carrie asked.

“Reason and sanity must start somewhere. It is the young who have the most to lose.”

Carrie and James looked at each other and nodded, then took out their phones and posted their viral pleas, staring a pandemic of truth, understanding, and peace.



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