S A M U E L
Communing with the Gods for his life-force was always an unpleasant experience, one Samuel felt grimly obligated to do for no actions of his own. He always shut the shop on days he made the pilgrimage, knowing he'd need a rest afterwards. Usually, he took a walk to clear his head then treated himself to something sugary in the evening; the height of luxury in his simple bookish life.
He had wandered towards the bone bridge mainly by accident, but the structure had always fascinated him anyway and he was always interested in learning more of histories that could transport him away from himself. With a little parasol held over his face to block the sun, it was calming to be alone and in the quiet.
He sat by the edge of the bridge, touching the strange stone with his fingertip to feel the cold white beneath. It was clear why it had gotten the name 'bone bridge' but Sam felt it more resembled pottery; thinking a bridge made of old pots might be a good start for a story, he jotted it down in his notebook.
He peered over into the gorge. Mist curled up to greet him, the effect making it hard to see just how deep it was. Gently, he moved to sit with his legs hanging over the edge, looking out into the mist. It seemed a type of weather greatly close to his own heart, sombre and low. He was so busy contemplating this he didn't notice when the ground beneath him began to crack, just slightly; places where weight had not been put for years suddenly giving way.
Sam managed to begin to scrabble backwards, pushing himself back just in time to watch the rock before him tumble down into the gorge. Deep, panicked breaths ripping out of him, he continued to push back, whimpers most undignified pushing their way through. Of course, even though he had been alone this whole time, as soon as he was being embarrassing he heard footsteps coming down the path towards him.
He didn't have time to get up and pretend nothing had happened; he was sure he had a terrible dirty stain on his pants from scrabbling about in the dirt too. For the moment he just tried to collect himself on the edge of the path, hoping whoever was coming would give him the kindness of ignoring him.
I AM THE OCEAN CLAWING AT YOUR MOON
