I urge people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (provide a translation please :)). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph has been reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr.
The railing was chilling under my fingertips. The moisture streaming from my palms made the contact slick within seconds. I retracted my hand and breathed deeply. The bridge looked sturdy. It would not fall apart, would it? My partner nudged me to begin walking, assuring me that she was behind me at all times. The tour group had ventured forth and they had been left behind. “We’ll be stuck here forever,” my partner’s voice grew worried. I took one step forward and then another. My entire body trembled and threatened to collapse.
– Ermisenda Alvarez
Ermilia 
“Half-way across the rain-slicked bridge, a reverberating crack sounded through the the trees. My hands dropped the rifle to grasp for the railing I clung to the rest of the way across a now half-bridge that threatened to become a non-bridge any second. If I could just make it into the trees on the other side, I might be able to hide from them. It was no use. I could feel the bridge trembling under their weight, I knew the camouflaged soldiers would catch up to me sharply. Another resounding report echoed throughout the canyon just as I lunged for the muddy threshold and the bridge gave way. I looked over my shoulder to see all four soldiers falling to their deaths, their lives half lived.”
(c) September 24 2011 Janice Aurora Morealist
I love the action-fueled contribution. Haha I forgive you for the typos, it’s expected. 😀 I really liked this phrase ‘four soldiers falling to their deaths, their lives half lived.’.
I love it! Great action packed mini-adventure! 🙂 Blessings, Terri
The jungle warfare scene caught me by surprise. Instant tension added to the already scary bridge. Ermisenda had the same acrophobic reaction to the picture I did. Both well done.
It’s funny, I looked up this bridge in Lynn Valley, B.C. and the pictures I found had dozens of tourists looking quite relaxed, looking over the rail, stopping to take pictures. Just another bridge.
Uh Oh. Typos. That’s what I get for typing so fast and hitting post… sorry folks, I know it impedes the read … oooops
You and Aurora write so beautifully! 🙂
So let me try:
“The strong breeze of winter chilled me to the bones, but I am not afraid. I instinctively tightened my grip though, until my fingers were numb. The harsh material tore my skin until blood poured down on the bridge but I did not care. I felt nothing… but freedom. I smelled fresh leaves and rotten wood, and my soul wanted to escape, merge into this appealing nature. But my body restricted it. I suddenly felt frustrated and all my senses re-activated themselves. My palms hurt but I had to move on…”
Thank you but you underestimate yourself evilnymphstuff, your contribution was great. Strong use of imagery with the dripping blood. I really liked the idea of the soul wishing to escape, to become one with nature.
Another excellent one! I enjoyed this one too. Blessings, Terri
Thank you 🙂
I like the freedom and the desire to merge into the smell of the leaves and the wood.
Alternatively
[From the moment when the first slender line, whipped from its coil, pulled by the singing fletches of an arrow, reached the dark opening in the forest… yes, from that very moment this curve, this regular poetry of shape, has existed. Indeed it had existed before in the laws of how-things-are but had never been expressed here until that moment. After the line a rope was passed, and then another, and the first ‘pont de singe’ was fashioned, Jivaro feet made a fearless, shallow V in it. Later someone cared to haul cables, slats, and a chainmail of cold links across, but the curve remained the same, a slave to gravity and to the arithmetic of the very nature that defied the bridge’s civilizing rhetoric. I could never cross by day for the awe of that curve; but night was different, being a traverse from greater dark, to lesser, to greater again… into… out of… into the warmth of the forest. I always knew from the bridge’s sway, from the stars above my head, from the breeze at my neck, from the clamour of the rapids below with that ceaseless conversation of rocks and water, that I had reached the very centre, the nadir of the curve, and that I hung in a figure of eternity. “I’m part of the curve, I’m part of the sway.”]
I love your approach to this weeks Picture it & write. It is a story of the bridge itself. Beautiful descriptive imagery “clamour of the rapids below with that ceaseless conversation of rocks and water”. A pleasure to have your contribution with us, week after week.
Och, it keeps the ol’ juices flowing. 🙂
I love all the different takes on this! Blessings, Terri
This sounded like you built one of these before. That was pretty cool! I liked the way I could see the darkness and feel the warmth of the trees crossing at night.
A feeling of playing hangman
Life attached to wood and
your legs trembling as you
hang in mid-air, tunnelvision
to the trees in the distance
A few more thoughts
To fill in the gaps
of your hollow mind.
Een gevoel van galgje spelen.
Leven vast aan hout en
Je benen bibberen als je
Midden in de lucht hangt, tunnelvisie
Naar de bomen in de verte
Nog een paar gedachten
Om de gaten te vullen
Van jouw lege gedachtes.
Wow, great use of the ‘hangman’ imagery. Thanks for contributing again Otheus, we always love your exquisite Dutch/English poetry.
So cool! Almost makes mine feel inadequate :(, I said almost lol. Blessings, Terri
I never know how to comment on your poems, Otheus, because they speak so clearly for themselves. I enjoy them. Definitely tunnelvision looking at those trees!
Okay guys, here is mine: http://terri0729.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/frozen-midstepped/ Hope you like it. Blessings, Terri
Oops, sorry! it’s http://terri0729.wordpress.com/2011/09/25/frozen-mid-stepped/
Your ability to rhyme makes me very jealous. It’s so refreshing to read a mini story in the form of a poem, great job!
Eliabeth’s contribution
The little girl’s arms stretched out beside her as she made the rumbling sounds on an engine. She was a plane ready to take off and the bridge was her launching pad. It was a slide, a roller coaster that dropped suddenly into the jungle. She ran back and forth, listening to the clank of chains as pirates chased her. She had stolen their treasure chest and marked it with an X they would never find…
Adults crossed the bridge, and to them, it was just a bridge.
I liked this a lot. I was commenting earlier today about the ability for two people to see the same thing differently, and the adults only seeing a bridge is a perfect illustration of how we choose the world we see.
Fabulous one Eliabeth! I loved it!! Peace, Terri
Thank you very much. I don’t have the inspiration every week the way Ermi does, but that one was fun.
The light rattling of chained metal swaying back and forth, up and down from every step, the rustling of leaves in the wind, and, drowning some of it out, the calm rush of the water crashing and rolling over every single stone; such were the only sounds to be heard, lest one hear the occasional chirp of a bird here or there. Every one hit the fox’s ears prominently, occasionally eliciting a glance in that direction. Ah, but ’twas all the same, the sounds of the wilds that he was so used to; even the occasional man-made structures like this, foreign to such places but so useful for purposes of convenience.
Such was simply one of many paths forward, and if it was just for convenience’s sake that the bridge was taken, so be it. It wasn’t as though there was anything wrong with that, after all.
-Not much, but, well, it’s something, right?
~Allen (aka Kai)
What do you mean “something”? That was pretty good I thought! 🙂 blessings, Terri
Another great perspective, from a fox. I’m glad you chose to participate in this weeks Picture it & write and I hope to see you next week!
This one really stood out for me when the fox entered. I was suddenly picturing it’s nonchalant gait over this thing that was just there, no concept of different. It dawned on me that without the bridge, the fox would never know the world on the other side of the river. Great perspective!
Thanks so much for the compliment! 🙂 I cracked my daughter up doing a rap song that I made up spir of the moment one day. It just comes to me! Blessings…
His breath is hot on the back of my neck and sweat trickles down my spine. The humid air is humming all around us, the birds speaking their whimsical languages, and the clouds unmoving and crowding us in it’s stuffy canopy. My foot feels like a block of concrete as it slowly scrapes across the surface of the bridge. My mind wanders to my partner, his strong jaw probably clenched behind me awaiting my further movements. I wonder if he likes kids? If he would want them. My hand slips off of the rail and hangs in the air, naked and alone without its support.
Welcome Leah! This was another great contribution, I really liked how you slipped a sub plot about their relationship. This sentence was fantastic ‘My foot feels like a block of concrete as it slowly scrapes across the surface of the bridge.’ I hope to see you next week. 🙂
Haha, tough place to get a room! This has really nice imagery, and of course a sexy feeling. I like being teased with the naked hand at the end.
Thanks for the welcome! I look forward to contributing more soon 🙂 I absolutely love this idea to have everyone add on to a picture and a paragraph. Splendid!!
My journey begins with a leap of faith. One precarious step onto the bridge to my future.
It stretches out in front of me, wrapping me in its embrace as I walk. Protecting me, guiding me forward.
There are highs and lows…the bridge is always a bit shaky and where it ends…the far end of the bridge…I won’t see until after I take that first step.
Lovely post! Your contribution had a great poetic edge to it. Hope to see you next week.
Thanks, Ermilia. I’m glad it fits in with what you’re doing here. It’s a great blog!
The only one to use the bridge metaphorically. Nice!
She took a small step forward and felt the cold wood beneath her bare feet. Ahead of her was a long line of planks all nailed together, hanging loosely over a flowing body of water. She could hear the inconsistent gushes of the river, though she could not see it.
She walked on the bridge, the wooden boards creaking underneath her weightless self. Was it shaking with her? Was it swinging in the breeze or was she just imagining? She started running and abruptly came to a half exactly half-way. The distance to reach unmoving land was the same whether she went left or right. It would not make a difference.
She looked around her, at the lush forest. She looked down at the river, furiously making its way past the rocks.
“Who am I?” she called out to nothing, and the question went round and echoed through the rainforest, came right back at her. “Who am I, who am I, who am I”, dimming in volume, until the question was not much else but an unanswered affirmation. And the water below her, bellowing “shh, shh, shh” …
She turned around, facing where she had come from, dismissing the other piece of land that the bridge connected. It was a world she could not yet discover.
Sorry that’s a tad long, I’m using it for my creative writing task 🙂
Don’t fret about the length. It was a lovely read. I liked this part ‘“Who am I?” she called out to nothing, and the question went round and echoed through the rain forest, came right back at her.’ followed with the description of the hushing river. A great image was created in that paragraph. Thanks for contributing!
I enjoy the longer ones. I really like being barefoot on the bridge, and the echo.
Where was I? This makes my palms sweat just from a picture!
A little afraid of heights are we? Let the fear guide your fountain pen onto the aging parchment! Write, write away Anne! 😛
Haha, the outlines’s already 245 words. If my middle name wasn’t Anne it would be Acrophobia, but I face it, cuz I love adrenaline!
Acrophobia has a nice… ring to it? Adrenaline is the fuel of life. 😀
The closest thing to non-fiction on my whole blog…. Why Jump Out of a Perfectly Good Airplane?
That was a story and a half! I left a comment there. Brilliant. I want that adrenaline *tries to steal it from your past experience*.
Outline is done (and slightly embellished)… me and Jessi again. Picture saved. I’ll be back. This is gonna be one of my instant “♥ Fav” tags.
Okay, I’m not going to go back and do all of the ones I missed, but this one was begging me. Here’s Over the River.
Awesome! Yay, I’m so glad you came around and made another contribution. I’m glad you did, it was great. I loved this sentence ‘She felt her stomach pour through the funnels that were once her legs as the wooden slats cushioned like dry sponge under her feet.’ Haha, I loved that Annie ran. The image made me smile (and internally laugh).
I swear I wrote that sentence for you. No. Lie.
Haha ^^ Thank you! Your too kind. 🙂 (And devishly good at story-telling.)