The Ghost Bridge

I have long been aware of tales of a ghost Bridge, on the Hafren River. Local folklore, tales of eerie goings on and people going missing. I need to see this for myself. But if it is a ghost bridge, would I actually see it, would I ever be seen again. 

Only one way to find out. 

I set out on a beautiful sunny day with Hollie dog and two humbugs. I wanted to be back home for a late breakfast.

I walked for miles (two actually) but it seemed like twenty. The countryside was delectable, the views to die for. Maybe I shouldn't have said that....

After hours of scrambling over barely visible tree roots, through overhanging branches, avoiding steep drops to the river, I got to the place. 

Dark, gloomy, chill. 

And there it was, a vision of decay, and death. A dilapidated structure of old rotting timbers and covered in moss and other things.... 

I decided to cross, to get to the sylvan green vista on the other side.... But.. 

When I set foot on the decaying timbers the whole structure trembled and groaned.. I stepped forward tentatively and a loud crack shattered the silence and I grabbed for one of the quivering posts supposedly supporting the ancient roadbed... 

I decided to quickly get back to solid ground, I felt very exposed and fearful.. 

I stepped back off the bridge, retraced my steps and rejoined the trail back to sunlight and civilisation. Safe. 

I turned to look back at the bridge, but it was gone. Nothing, save for a sense of something wrong, a dark cloud over everything, and a thin veil of mist hovering where the bridge had once been. 

Had I actually seen it, I don't know. I decided not to say anything, to never speak of it again.

After all, no one would believe me, would they...