Once again, my glasses fogged up as I breathed in the cold January air, exhaling mist through my woolen scarf. Once again, I paused to clean them, only to tuck them back into their place in the inner pocket of my coat. Once again, I found myself on the small communistic bridge above the Vishnitsa River, staring at the monster.
A calm monster, yes, but still, neither human nor animal—a being. Perched on the railing, always looking eastward at the rising sun, its sharp claws gripping the old metal. The rust it dislodged piled on the same spot I found it every morning. The only proof of its existence—the pile of rust and my memory.
If it was like the other spirits, it wouldn’t even care about me unless it realized I could see it—like the akulii near the park or the minks in the basement. At least, that’s what I told myself. True, it was frightening, but curiosity outweighed fear in this case.
Every morning, it simply stared eastward at the sun, the same orb that would later blind me on my way to my school.
As much as I wanted to ignore it and suppress my interest, my gaze couldn’t help but linger on it. The way its fur shimmered with a layer of crystalline fragments that refracted the light into all of its colors. The fact that it had scars—something quite tangible for a spirit. And, finally, the question: Why was it rooted here? What was in the sunrise here that wasn’t elsewhere? Why for the past two and a half weeks and not for centuries?
As with most spirits, my unseen companions, the mysteries were hidden in emotions. And so, I continued on my way.
The days passed; the snow melted, the sharp winds softened, and the rust continued to gather on the bridge above Vishnitsa.
By the end of the semester, I decided to try and see what it saw in the landscape. Early one morning, with sunglasses and a cigarette filled with incense, I sat down next to the creature. Looking eastward, I took a moment to pause, to be present, and stopped.
I saw… the sun, light reflected in the half-frozen river below us, greenery breaking through the frozen ground. I saw the school in the distance, the place where I once had a picnic with Adi.
I lit the cigarette, forming a cross with two quick motions and murmuring a protective prayer my mum thought me. I put the lighter away. It looked at me. I closed my pocket. It opened its maw—a forest of teeth, colored with sadness and fury, bathed in the morning rays, revealed itself. I closed my eyes, claws digging into my skin.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
If they don’t know, they don’t care.
“Why do you gaze at the sun, oh child of the living?”
Its voice scraped like a crumb of bread harder than stone, like a glove rubbing snow. I opened my eyes and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“To see what you see, son of the nonexistent.” I answered with a dry mouth, fear rooting me to the metal railing.
“And what do you perceive, with one eye in each dimension?”
I paused for a moment, unsure of my words.
“A part of my life—a path many tread every day, but few stop to see. The moment now, the consequences of yesterday, and the promises for tomorrow.”
He fell silent like me, his claws loosening their grip on the railing and clutching his fur, like a philosopher deep in thought.
“I see what could have been and what is now—the rust on my hands, the dead plants beneath the soil, and the poison in the water.”
I looked at the landscape. The plants barely peeked through, the bridge should have been restored three years ago, and the fish in the river grew smaller and smaller with each year since I can remember. Those things were there “but everything has two sides. Why do you only look eastward, with your back to the sunset?”
“I died here, below. Beneath the bridge. I fell ill and hid where I could… I watch the sunrise because I wish for a better morning. Something that promises me there’s a chance.”
I looked at him again, his long nails dirty with mud and grime, the fur of his coat frozen with ice, his teeth crooked from a life full of fights.
“Then there’s no reason to wait for the sun. I promise you things will get better.”
I said it without much thought. I knew there was no other answer I would accept. With one hand, the vagrant stole my cigarette and placed it on his cracked lips, the incense instantly scorching his ghostly skin.
“I trust you, kid.”
In the weeks that followed, the grass grew, the river filled, and I managed to get some friends from school to help me repaint the bridge, even managed to get the school to fund it.
I sat on the railing at the start of the next semester. Once again, I looked eastward. Once again, I left a coin beside me for the ones in need. Once again, I was grateful for what I had. Once again, I decided that things would be better.
And so started my final semester, I had already been accepted into the university of cultural insights in the UK. Just had to pass the year. It would be a teary goodbye to my family and friends, but that was for later.