A Journey Begins - Flash Fiction

It's been a long time since I last wrote any fiction. For whatever reason I haven't felt the need to write fiction, it could be boredom, or the 'sparky new thing' syndrome. I have two novels on my computer that I've failed to completely finish and it's a always bugged me a little that I didn't see them through to the end. They are probably rubbish but how will I ever know if I don't finish them right?

Recently I've noticed a trend. I'm inspired by photos, I want to explore where the inspiration might take me. At the same time though my niggling self-doubt holds me back. So, in order to battle my self-doubt demons and attempt to get back to writing fiction (which I actually enjoy!) I decided to write a short piece of flash fiction. I was inspired by a photo I found on StumbleUpon, which is usually where I find my inspiring photos, and couldn't stop the words coming.

Across that bridge lay the unknown.

I was drenched. Strands of hair stuck to my face and my ponytail clung to the back of my neck. Raindrops trickled down my back and goosebumps shot across my skin. I stood at the cliff-side unable to step forward.

An orange walkway bridging the chasm in front of me swung in the wind. Staring across the bridge, the rain hammering my head, I wondered if I really had the courage for this.

Hundred year old trees surrounded the bridge, their branches reaching out like old, wrinkled hands. They offered new life with a handful of new leaves. Moss hung over the branches and the pouring rain dripped from the moss, making a pitter-patter sound on the ground deep below. Did the moss represent my old life? The one I was about to leave behind?

I couldn't see across to the other side of the bridge, the bright orange path ahead lead into darkness. The ropes holding the bridge up looked worn, like they might snap at any moment, and it made me nervous.

I blinked as rain trickled into my eyes. My back ached, I carried all that I owned in a heavy backpack. My feet hurt. Had I really come this far to give up now? 

I took a deep breath and stepped onto the bridge. It creaked. I stopped, gripping the handrail ropes. I dare not look down. There was a hundred feet drop beneath my feet and the chasm below was sure to swallow my determination. I wouldn't make it across. There was nothing sturdy to cling to to pull myself across that bridge, there was no way I could do this without doing it myself.

One step in front of the other. That's all it took.

One step at a time I forced myself across the bridge. 
And into the unknown world ahead...

Flexing my brain, allowing it to be creative feels good. I don't know what this means but time will tell.

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