The Forgotten by Nick Stead

And so here I stand on a bridge between worlds. I’d have been grounded if my parents had known I was even considering coming out here, but that’s not what causes me to hesitate.

The passion and defiance of my teenage years has brought me this far, hormones drowning out any thoughts of the consequences of my disobedience. What do they know anyway? I’m almost a man, almost an adult in the eyes of the law. I am my own person and no one can take that away, family or otherwise. My life is mine to lead, my choices mine to make, and they will just have to learn to accept that.

Strange sounds carry on the breeze, creatures of the night screaming both threats and warnings. If I had any sense I’d turn back. Everything about the woods seems uninviting, yet they also carry a forbidden allure tempting me onwards. One more step and I will cross from civilisation to wilderness. Why is that so hard? I remind myself of the prize within and my uncertainty is swept aside by fresh determination. I’ve come too far to give up now.

My torch beam seems out of place as it punches through the wall of blackness between the trees, hard tarmac giving way to soft earth infested with roots twisting and turning through the soil. Twigs grasp at my clothes as I plunge into this other world, the vegetation apparently come alive with the disapproval of my parents, trying to hold me back. It doesn’t work. Blood only surges faster through my veins, my heart beating stronger with excitement.

It’s not long before I reach the place I seek. The trickle of water over pebbles sounds unnaturally loud as I draw closer and sure enough I can just make out the ancient structure arching across the stream. I pause then. The stories surrounding it are as many as the stones that give it shape, the legends chilling. I know all about these cautionary tales meant to ward off young fools like myself. Yet I must cross this second bridge if I am to see her.

With a deep breath and a swig of vodka for my nerves, I take the next step. I’ve almost reached the old structure when the artificial beam of light dies in my hand, a dark veil settling over my eyes and rendering them useless. Panic rises and I shake the torch, bashing it against my palm in a desperate attempt to bring back its protective halo, a shield against the shadows and all the dangers of the night. At least, that’s what I would like to believe. The rational part of me knows I am in just as much danger with or without it, but it was a comfort nevertheless, until it ceased to be. Now I am very aware of the fact I am alone and vulnerable, and no one even knows I’m here. I have my mobile with me of course but there’s no signal in the woods. It is as if I have truly crossed from one world to another, and such things have no place in nature’s domain.

A ghostly shaft of moonlight shoots down from the clouds, piercing through a gap between the trees and illuminating the bridge once more. I know I should turn back but I find myself drawn forwards almost as if against my will, enchanted by some kind of magic that goes far beyond youth and lust. So I take another step, and another, until I reach the side of the stream.

A strange sensation of giddy excitement and nauseating exhilaration takes hold in my gut as my eyes pick out her silhouette on the other side. It’s enough to drive away my fears and push me on. I’m almost there now, the bridge all that separates us. But as I begin to cross the ancient stone, my eyes fall on a shape sticking out from under the man-made arch, proof that perhaps the legends are true after all. Icy fear returns, rooting me to the spot. For there is no mistaking that shape even in the darkness, and suddenly I wish I were back in the warmth and safety of my room.

The skeletal grin seems to mock me as I lock gazes with its one dead eye, the other socket gaping empty with the void of death. I think she might have been my age before her life was brought to a cruel and unnatural end, but decay makes it hard to tell. Should I run back towards civilisation and ring the police? I know that would be the right thing to do, yet the thought of my parents’ wrath holds me back. And if I run now my desires will go unfulfilled yet again, my body already aching with longing. I want her so badly it hurts.

My lust wins out. I tear my gaze from the corpse and continue across the bridge. But I can still feel her one eye following me as I push on, sending chills down my spine. I keep my gaze fixed on the feminine outline waiting up ahead and quicken my pace.

Something is wrong. The figure of my affections appears to vanish, melting into the shadows. Confusion brings me to another stop, and a cold breath slides over the skin at the base of my neck, raising the hairs in a tickly wave.

With a whimper, I turn to find myself fixed by that one terrible eye. Greying skin and chalky bone streaked with blood is made all the worse by the half light of the moon, bare jawbones leering with some private joke known only to the dead. Her stare seems accusatory from behind death’s milky shroud, a guttural sound reverberating deep within her throat but the flesh too rotten to form actual words.

I begin to back away, making my own wordless noises. Shock and disbelief numb my brain. I know I should run, but I can’t seem to tear my gaze from this horrific vision advancing towards me, gruesome and impossible.

Skeletal fingers reach for my throat. They wrap around my flesh before I have chance to react and a crazy revelation takes root in my brain. But how can this be? The corpse has clearly been rotting in these woods for weeks, maybe even months or years, and yet she was alive and well last time I saw her in daylight, just hours ago when we arranged this ill-fated meeting. Have I completely lost my mind? I will never know.

It should have been a night to remember, one to leave me feeling so alive and on the ultimate high life has to offer. Yet only the cold of the grave embraces me. The tales are true after all, the bridge cursed. My vision is fading, my heart growing weaker, and as the last of my thoughts begin to die, I briefly wonder if they will find me out here. Or perhaps I will join this forgotten beauty, decaying into obscurity.