There were flowers on the bridge again. I noticed them on my way to work. It seemed to be the way around here and everyone knew what they meant so no questions were ever asked.
I’d never seen anyone jump. I heard they did it at night so there was less chance of them being stopped. I didn’t understand it. What could make people decided to do that? Only they could answer, for only they knew what was in their heads.
I went to church and learnt it was the Devil that made people jump. Walking over the bridge the next day, I stopped and looked over the wall. Below the murky waters flowed, looking as inviting sewage. And yet, I felt drawn. It looked so calm down there and so peaceful, not like the madness of this city. You work or you die!
You jump and live…..
What was that voice? Where had it come from?
Why did I feel the urge to climb the wall?
Be Free! Jump!
I was climbing up. I was dropping my things, taking off my coat. People were gasping, shouting. The wind felt so good on my face. My feet were leaving the wall.
I wanted to be free.
(Inspired by; https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/09/17/sunday-photo-fiction-september-17th-2017/ with thanks).