On the Bridge at Midnight.


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This story is now part of TRUST and SLIGHTLY SPOOKY STORIES.

I looked for you last night, on the bridge, but I got distracted.

There was a carnival and a huge old carousel.

Something told me that you too had been attracted to the sight and sounds.

I stood by the carousel and watched it whirling by. It was moving too fast for me to be able to recognise the faces of everyone on board, so I had to wait for it to complete another circuit, then another, and another.

I stood and watched, each time expecting to see your laughing face because, of course, you would be laughing.

I waited for the longest time and eventually the carousel began to slow.

Ever so slowly it came to a halt and the happy throng disembarked, but you were not among them.

Maybe you had gotten off on the other side? I hurried around but the riders had dispersed by the time I got there.

I was a little sad but the sound of the carousel, as it started off with its new load of passengers, raised my spirits.

I went back to the bridge and waited, but I must have fallen asleep because now it was morning.

A street-sweeper woke me and suggested that I get a cup of coffee at the cafe across the road; at least that’s what I think he suggested.

I sat in the cafe and drank my coffee and watched Paris wake up for another day.

The day would be long and pointless.

All that mattered was that I am back on this bridge tonight once more, at midnight.