The brook was our boundary marker,
it belonged to my sister and I,
and only us,
because it was only us
that weren’t allowed across.
Grown ups could pass.
They could come and go as they please.
With their dogs and their bikes
and their children of their own,
who raced across our boundary
like it didn’t exist.
It did exist.
On maps it marked a divide,
the line between Ash and Higher Heath.
But even our address forgot that.
And the bridge.
It didn’t look like a bridge,
all concreted in with the road.
Squat, fat and grey,
with weeds and grass on top!
It was a very unbridgey bridge.
But it was my bridge.
My secret, hidden bridge
across my very own moat
that kept out the monsters
lurking in the woods.
The first time I crossed
I managed three or four steps.
Then the knots in my stomach got too tight
and the sky seemed too grey
and the day too cold.
It wasn’t far,
just far enough that the house disappeared,
hidden by a bend and the trees
and I realised that no one would see me
if the monsters came out of the shadows.
For the first time I felt alone
Written for the Daily Prompt: Crossing
Feedback on this piece would be greatly appreciated. I’m not sure what I think of the ending. I reworked it so much that by the time I landed on this one I was just happy that it didn’t suck as badly as the others.