She walked across the bridge by necessity.
Twice a day.
Inadequately sheltered from the rain, wind, snow, sun or whatever else the elements wanted to hurl at her.
In the summer the corrugated iron roof helped distil the smell of the urine, in the winter it was an elevated wind tunnel.
In the dark the faltering strip lighting helped pick a path through whatever debris the other users had deposited.
No one else loved the bridge, no one else noticed the subtle tang of the diesel above the piss; the smoky aftertaste of the age of steam, or the slight smell of ionisation from the cradles arcing on the wires.
But she loved the bridge.
It was a means to an end, but she still loved it, as she loved everything else about the unloved station.
She often wished she had the courage of the tramps which sometimes bedded down on the benches on the platforms. She wished she could give herself up completely to the idea…
She stood looking up the platform, wondering what the man with the umbrella and the shiny second hand suit did for a living; Watching the mother trying to herd her flock of children away from the platform edge.
The absence of conversation didn’t bother her; she enjoyed the solitude of being in crowd; The isolation of others company; The opportunity to observe with impunity.
Soon she would be at work, and be completely invisible. No one would see her, but she could see all of them and so much more.
Before she could hear the train, she could hear the noise of the track singing. As the train drew up to the platform she could feel the excitement rising within her. She flushed with embarrassment, in case anyone could work out her secret.
RichardV, 8 months ago
An excellent interpretation of my picture Micky. I could visualise everything you penned.
Well done, and good luck.
Lehane, 8 months ago
A naughty little secret methinks! Nice enjoyable piece!
MickyMc in reply to RichardV’s comment, 7 months ago
Hi Richard thank you, that is very kind.
I think your photo deserves the credit for my story, as that was what put the words into my mind!
It is just as well I’m pretty new to Red Bubble, as had I spotted the link I would have a look at your other photos and wrote something different based on my childhood holidays in Exmouth!
We went to Dawlish Warren a couple of times, but I don’t think we made it as far as Dawlish. The thing that sticks in my mind was that the railway line was almost at the edge of the beach and the old class 55 trains used to go hurtling past…ooh I feel another story coming on!!!
Cheers
MickyMc in reply to Lehane’s comment, 7 months ago
Thank you!
Our secrets are what make us interesting…
RichardV, 7 months ago
I will get some pics taken of, and around the Warren, including the camps, and the railway line, so maybe give you some ideas and/or inspiration.
keep looking in then Micky.
LocoCow, 7 months ago
Phenom. journey through the psyche.. Love how wanton and irrisistable you have made the urge to visit the bridge in all its neglected beauty..
MickyMc in reply to LocoCow’s comment, 7 months ago
Thanks. I felt really inspired by the picture, and I think that a lot of Richards work is really powerful… I hope I captured a bit of it
Damian, 7 months ago
I liked the idea of the attraction felt to the bridge, despite its up-front flaws, and that secret, LOL!