What Remains

by Francesco Levato

This isn’t a gateway to hell. It’s not one of those bridges. There are no billy goats crossing, or hungry trolls lying in wait. If you approach on a moonlit night, no ghostly figure beckons you across or chases you down on horseback, its sword slicing at your head. I’ve come here a thousand times—and have yet to hear the disembodied cries of school children as their bus careens over the edge.

It is ordinary, I remind myself. The stillness here is not unnatural. There really is no shadow under the bridge—lurking near where they found Bobby’s shoe.

Francesco Levato

Francesco Levato is a poet, professor, and writer of speculative fiction. More about his work can be found here:

Website: francescolevato.com