The Follow Me Bridge

They call it the Follow Me Bridge because of the sound it makes when you cross it alone. Each step makes a sort of reverberating echo sound that for all the world sounds like someone is following you.

When you’re walking home from the pub late at night, or you’ve just got off the last train of the day on some dark damp wintery evening, and the town is all silent except for the low hum of the motorway in the distance. You’re alone, everyone else is home where they belong, tucked in beneath their cozy blanky, binge watching Netflix. Your own footsteps on the tarmac are the only sound to break the ambience until you reach the bridge.

It takes six or seven steps on the old steel framed bridge before you register it. The sound of another’s feet. You can’t help but look over your shoulder. No one is there.

You press on. The second set of feet follows on. You stop. Check again. You are definitely alone. Onward to home and safety, you pick up the pace. The followers feet match yours still. You halt again, ears pricked. Now there’s only one set of feet to be heard on the bridge, and they can’t be yours, your feet are planted firm.

A warm breath on the back of your neck, a long sigh in your ear. You don’t look back, but you know you’re still alone

Everyone knows the sound of the Follow Me Bridge, when they think they’re crossing it alone.