Story Survival of the Not So Fittest

Part 114​


I slowly made my way over to Hammon Bridge. It was mostly by feel and I’ll admit that the last thing I felt was brave or courageous. I knew the fear was about real things, but it was also of my own making. I should have been like Daniel in the Lion’s Den. Or Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego as they faced the fiery furnace. Or maybe David’s divine protection from King Saul. Esther. Deborah. All the Biblical figures I was raised on, taught as lessons in divine protection, resilience, trust in the Creator. And what of Jeremiah 1:8? I knew in my heart what I needed to do but my human side still wanted to cling to the fear.

The wind nipped at my exposed skin, relentless and icy. Each gust clawed its way through my layers like the fear kept trying to claw through my mind and heart. I was shivering from the cold, fear, and nerves. I was nauseous from the whipsaw movement my glucose level was making inside my body. I felt incredibly exposed, weak, and insufficient. I looked around trying to guess whether anyone could see me. Above, the sky was a void, a moonless and of impenetrably black. The sounds of fighting and people fleeing the fires faded the closer I got to the bridge’s edge, replaced by the wind’s howl, the rushing water below, and the rhythmic creak of the bridge beneath my boots. That’s right, the bridge was creaking. That on top of everything else turned my stomach inside out.

My courage almost failed me. My mind kept telling me I shouldn't have been there. Caution, that nagging voice that was like a viper’s whisper in my mind, screamed at me to turn back, to find another way despite knowing there wasn’t one. It pecked away at what little strength that I was trying to put to use. But the promise of what lay on the other side, a desperate hope of returning to Cade and the children, finally overrode the warnings.

I finally stepped out and almost immediately realized the pedestrian bridge was in worse shape than I had thought. It moved. Not much. But it definitely wasn’t the steady edifice it had been the last time I was on it. It wasn’t exactly like being on a suspension bridge, it didn’t sway that much, but something wasn’t right. There was debris under my boots at every step. I tripped more than once, barely staying on my feet.

Part of me wanted to just run across but I managed to keep myself under control. I kept going, slow step by slow step, holding onto the side of the bridge until the trusses and rails simply disappeared beneath my hand. My heart jumped. No matter how far out I reached there was nothing to hold onto. When I bent down there wasn’t anything there either until I crawled my way back towards the center of the tarmac. I realized a lot of concrete was missing. The river was much louder, and I could feel the wind coming from below me, not just from the sides. My mind wanted to seize up. I was stranded, halfway across a crumbling pedestrian bridge, a rickety skeleton of concrete and rusted metal suspended over a chasm that fell into the river I knew flowed beneath me.

That’s when I heard gavel behind me. Not like someone was walking back there but like something was slipping behind me. The gravel sliding down turned into a loud splash from the town side of the river. A piece of the bridge had given way and I knew there was no turning back at this point.

The bridge groaned under my weight with every careful step. The roadbed, such as it was, was uneven. Every few feet the it would disappear completely, leaving gaping holes I struggled to find a way around. I crawled even more than I walked and stumbled. I tried to keep my eyes fixed on the path ahead, each footfall a calculated risk, but it was so dark I couldn’t see a thing. One wrong move, one misstep, and I'd be swallowed whole … by the holes in the bridge, by the river below, maybe even by the bridge crashing down on top of wherever I landed.

The cold was a physical presence, seeping into my bones, numbing my fingers and toes. I thanked God, then mentally thanked Cade, for planting the idea that I should dress warmer than what I had originally thought I would need. To be honest I could have used another couple of layers but didn’t have them so tried to deal with what I had. I pulled my scarf tighter, but it offered little protection. The fingerless gloves I had on exposed as much as they protected. Even though I couldn’t see it, my breath plumed out in a mist that was quickly dragged away by the wind. The air smelled of damp earth, rust, and decay; a constant reminder of the bridge's precarious condition.

The darkness was absolute. Without a moon or any ambient light, the world was reduced to a series of textures and sounds. I relied on my sense of touch, feeling for the solid places, avoiding the treacherous gaps. The wind only made my situation worse. It whipped around me, threatening to knock me from my precarious perch.

I remembered the stories that Rebecca had told of others who had attempted this crossing. A very few had made it. Others… had not. Then they’d blocked both ends of the bridge off. That thought stopped me. I hadn’t encountered any blockage on the town side. Where had it gone? Had it been used in some building project or other? Had it fallen into the river and I’d not even realized it? And what did that presage for what I would meet if … no when, not if … I reached the other end of the bridge. Would I have to climb over something even more dangerous? The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a cold wave that had nothing to do with the weather.

This was the fear that I’d seen in the eyes of the other patients in the hospital when I’d gone with Mom. And just like she was here with me I heard Mom’s voice, “Sometimes all we can do to help us put one foot in front of the other is pray.” So that’s what I did. I didn’t want to be a foxhole supplicant. I didn’t make promises I was likely unable to keep. I didn’t want to wheel and deal, trying to fool my Creator into helping me. I didn’t want to show arrogance. In truth I wasn’t exactly sure what to say or how. So I just … prayed. Wordlessly. Soundlessly. I prayed for whatever it was that I needed to cross this bridge and then to get home to Cade and the children. They needed me. I needed to fulfill my God-given responsibilities. Needed it like most people needed air. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was praying for but … I was heard.

Peace.

The fear was still there but blanketed by something. I’m going to choose to believe that God or someone he’d sent to me, an angel perhaps, gave me something. Not bravery. Not courage. Not anything I had a human word for then and still don’t. Every word is too small, too incomplete. What I do know is that whatever it was, it worked. My breathing steadied. My heart rate settled down. My ears stopped ringing. My shaking stopped. My mind cleared of the fog of fear. And I knew it was time.

I stood up. The bridge swayed gently, a slow rhythm that tried to amplify my feeling of vulnerability. Images of the bridge collapsing tried to once again take over my mind; the wood splintering, the metal groaning, concrete cracking in its final surrender. But whatever had settled around me was more of a constant companion than the dark fear that tried to ride alongside me.

I pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to survive, finally believing it was possible. Each step was a victory, a small defiance against the elements and the crumbling structure, against the fear that had tried to incapacitate me and keep me from my God-given responsibilities that I knew waited on the other side. I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, the feel of the tarmac beneath my boots, the hope that now flickered within me.

For some ridiculous reason a list of vocabulary words tried to form in my mind from an old story that I’d been forced to read in one of my American Lit courses, or maybe it was Freshman English. It doesn’t matter. The key terms, dangerous, crumbling, cold, dark, and moonless, were all present, tangible realities. Probably from some Edgar Allen Poe story. This bridge crossing reminded me of one. The bridge was undeniably dangerous, a testament to neglect and decay and the war. The cold was a constant threat, a reminder of my own mortality. The darkness was a suffocating blanket, obscuring the path and amplifying the fear that kept trying to break through my calm. And the moonless night offered no solace, no guiding light. But I knew the light was there whether I saw it physically or not. The Light is always there.

I imagined the other side, the promise of warmth, of safety, of what I was seeking. That and my faith was the beacon in the darkness, a reason to keep moving. I pictured the solid ground, the end of this terrifying ordeal, returning to Cade and the children … my God-given responsibilities that I refused to believe He would simply snatch from me at the hands of the evil people back the way I had come from. The wind howled and seemed to mock my efforts. The bridge creaked and groaned even more and louer, nearly sounding like a symphony of impending doom. But I kept moving, one agonizing step at a time.

I reached a particularly treacherous section, a series of missing sections. I felt from one side of the bridge to the other. Nothing. Using a piece of metal that had fallen from somewhere, I could tell that the missing section wasn’t impossibly wide but it was still there. I prayed and then forced myself to leap across the chasm. I took a deep breath, focused on the other side, and jumped.

For a heart-stopping moment, I was suspended in mid-air, the wind screaming in my ears. Then, my boots landed on solid tarmac. I stumbled, lost my balance, and went down, scraping my hands and my knees even through the tights I wore beneath the denim. But I didn’t let the fall break my calm or stop me. I regained my balance, and pressed on. It seemed vital that I not delay despite still having to move cautiously in case there was another gap.

Slowly, agonizingly, the other side came into view. Almost as if one side of the bridge had been buried in darkness, the smog of battle and of evil, and on this side Light was winning the war. A faint outline, areas of dark that was more solid than the shadows I could just barely make out, morphed into what I realized were trees. They were a promise of solid ground. The end was near.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, I stumbled off the concrete at the edge that was originally meant to meet up with the open space before a parking area but that had never been completed. It was more like a graveled space left behind after the original road was scraped away. I knew the gravel opened onto a planned picnic area though there’d never been more than a couple benches. I knew the uncompleted picnic area would lead to a road, and if I followed the road it would ultimately lead to the county road. And the county road would lead me home.

The realization hit me hard. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath. The wind still whipped around me, but the worst was over. I had survived. And I gave my Creator thanks and praise. Had it been the old days I might have even built a altar in remembrance so all who passed by knew it was a location of praise and thankfulness.

I looked back at the bridge, a dark, crumbling silhouette against the night. It was a testament to my fear, my determination, and the enduring power of Hope and the Light that had guided me. I had crossed the dangerous bridge, and I was alive. The cold still lingered, but it was a small price to pay for survival.

Just then the rumbling and swaying of the bridge intensified. The ground beneath me shook and I fell again as the ground shifted and tilted. I was sliding back towards the bridge. Could there possibly have been a worse time for a Charley Horse Cramp?!
 
Kathy in FL said:
I was trying to make it creepy. It came out wordy. Ugh.
Click to expand...
It came out fantastic Kathy! Wordsmith, my Daddy would call you.
“…The bridge was undeniably dangerous, a testament to neglect and decay and the war. The cold was a constant threat, a reminder of my own mortality. The darkness was a suffocating blanket, obscuring the path and amplifying the fear that kept trying to break through my calm. And the moonless night offered no solace, no guiding light. But I knew the light was there whether I saw it physically or not. The Light is always there…”

Very, very well-done my friend! Not heavy-handed…just very good prose. You are a rock star! <3
 
I'm trying to fix that last bit. I know how I want to finish it. I just can't stand how it sounds. And the editing ... ugh. I fix one thing and it throws two more off. Sometimes the ending of a story is easy and natural and sometimes it is like having your wisdom teeth cut out with no anesthesia. Sigh.
 
Kathy in FL said:
Peace.

The fear was still there but blanketed by something. I’m going to choose to believe that God or someone he’d sent to me, an angel perhaps, gave me something. Not bravery. Not courage. Not anything I had a human word for then and still don’t. Every word is too small, too incomplete. What I do know is that whatever it was, it worked. My breathing steadied. My heart rate settled down. My ears stopped ringing. My shaking stopped. My mind cleared of the fog of fear. And I knew it was time.

I stood up. The bridge swayed gently, a slow rhythm that tried to amplify my feeling of vulnerability. Images of the bridge collapsing tried to once again take over my mind; the wood splintering, the metal groaning, concrete cracking in its final surrender. But whatever had settled around me was more of a constant companion than the dark fear that tried to ride alongside me.

I pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to survive, finally believing it was possible. Each step was a victory, a small defiance against the elements and the crumbling structure, against the fear that had tried to incapacitate me and keep me from my God-given responsibilities that I knew waited on the other side. I focused on the rhythm of my breathing, the feel of the tarmac beneath my boots, the hope that now flickered within me.

For some ridiculous reason a list of vocabulary words tried to form in my mind from an old story that I’d been forced to read in one of my American Lit courses, or maybe it was Freshman English. It doesn’t matter. The key terms, dangerous, crumbling, cold, dark, and moonless, were all present, tangible realities. Probably from some Edgar Allen Poe story. This bridge crossing reminded me of one. The bridge was undeniably dangerous, a testament to neglect and decay and the war. The cold was a constant threat, a reminder of my own mortality. The darkness was a suffocating blanket, obscuring the path and amplifying the fear that kept trying to break through my calm. And the moonless night offered no solace, no guiding light. But I knew the light was there whether I saw it physically or not. The Light is always there.

I imagined the other side, the promise of warmth, of safety, of what I was seeking. That and my faith was the beacon in the darkness, a reason to keep moving. I pictured the solid ground, the end of this terrifying ordeal, returning to Cade and the children … my God-given responsibilities that I refused to believe He would simply snatch from me at the hands of the evil people back the way I had come from. The wind howled and seemed to mock my efforts. The bridge creaked and groaned even more and louer, nearly sounding like a symphony of impending doom. But I kept moving, one agonizing step at a time.

I reached a particularly treacherous section, a series of missing sections. I felt from one side of the bridge to the other. Nothing. Using a piece of metal that had fallen from somewhere, I could tell that the missing section wasn’t impossibly wide but it was still there. I prayed and then forced myself to leap across the chasm. I took a deep breath, focused on the other side, and jumped.

For a heart-stopping moment, I was suspended in mid-air, the wind screaming in my ears. Then, my boots landed on solid tarmac. I stumbled, lost my balance, and went down, scraping my hands and my knees even through the tights I wore beneath the denim. But I didn’t let the fall break my calm or stop me. I regained my balance, and pressed on. It seemed vital that I not delay despite still having to move cautiously in case there was another gap.

Slowly, agonizingly, the other side came into view. Almost as if one side of the bridge had been buried in darkness, the smog of battle and of evil, and on this side Light was winning the war. A faint outline, areas of dark that was more solid than the shadows I could just barely make out, morphed into what I realized were trees. They were a promise of solid ground. The end was near.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, I stumbled off the concrete at the edge that was originally meant to meet up with the open space before a parking area but that had never been completed. It was more like a graveled space left behind after the original road was scraped away. I knew the gravel opened onto a planned picnic area though there’d never been more than a couple benches. I knew the uncompleted picnic area would lead to a road, and if I followed the road it would ultimately lead to the county road. And the county road would lead me home.

The realization hit me hard. I collapsed to my knees, gasping for breath. The wind still whipped around me, but the worst was over. I had survived. And I gave my Creator thanks and praise. Had it been the old days I might have even built a altar in remembrance so all who passed by knew it was a location of praise and thankfulness.

I looked back at the bridge, a dark, crumbling silhouette against the night. It was a testament to my fear, my determination, and the enduring power of Hope and the Light that had guided me. I had crossed the dangerous bridge, and I was alive. The cold still lingered, but it was a small price to pay for survival.

Just then the rumbling and swaying of the bridge intensified. The ground beneath me shook and I fell again as the ground shifted and tilted. I was sliding back towards the bridge. Could there possibly have been a worse time for a Charley Horse Cramp?!
Click to expand...
So Ms KiF, Part 114 after the single word sentance "Peace" definitely got my pulse rate up!

Nothing my meds wouldn't handle though . . . .
 
I should title this “AI Ate My Homework”. Sigh. I had this story completed but it was in bad shape and needed so much editing I would have been embarrassed to post even a sliver of it. But for the last few months real life has been very real and my time for writing and editing pretty much unavailable. What I get for having a life right? <snort>

So, brilliant me decided that just maybe I was being too harsh about AI. O.M.G. I was an idiot. Not only should I have not used an AI editing tool, but I didn’t save a back up because I figured nothing AI did could be so horrible that I couldn’t undo it. WRONG.

I didn’t take into account that I write colloquially for many of my characters, or age appropriately, etc. I speak “Southernese” and apparently that is a language that AI has yet to master. I figured spelling, grammar, paragraph structure should be simple to correct. Let me say again O.M.G. Not only did AI shred my spelling, grammar, paragraph structure and all the things that most middle school English teachers red pen in their sleep, AI literally removed entire sections in the chapters and inserted more adjectives and adverbs than are contained in most dictionaries. It said nothing with more words that an essay would require.

AI mucked it up completely. I’ve got to go back in by hand, fix where it screwed up pronouns. I have to restructure several conversations. It completely destroyed the epilogue making it sound like my protagonist is a female cross between Attila the Hun and Joan of Arc. It added so much medical/technical jargon that I don’t even understand what I meant any longer. And to add insult to injury it … let’s just say it rewrote my villains which has me seriously cheezed off.

Bottom line is I am finally calm enough not to throw something any time this story comes up in my mind. But I am still embarrassed that I didn’t back up the original when a little common sense should have had me doing that before feeding my story into any kind of editing program much less a “thinking” one like AI.

My apologies. Idiocy happens and apparently that is my latest go at it. I’ll get this sorted but it won’t happen overnight. To compensate I’m going to post a story that I started a couple of years ago. I’m only going to post a chapter a day to give me time to correct the shredded garbage I’ve got to untangle to finish this one. Hopefully I will have the new one started tonight. And I will never use AI again. I already strongly dislike AI but wanted to not allow my prejudices completely rule my life. Er … if AI was a human I would strip it nekked, stake it out in the middle of a field of fire ants and pour honey all over it. ‘Nuff said.
 
Breathe!

Crap happens to us all and you should hear some of the convos my wife has about some junior analysts trying to work AI tools to win promotions. Screwed up only comes close

I doubt any here are going to Desert because of this so take your time & proceed as best suits you and yours.

Thanks for all you do . . . .
 
Last edited:
After watching AI generated stuff on YouTube just so I can pick apart all of the inconsistencies and screw ups in it, your description of what AI did is exactly what I would expect.

Relax and fix it as you are able. We'll be here waiting.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top