The Cold Spot by Tracy Davidson

It lies halfway across the bridge. Makes people shiver, even on hot nights.

Legend speaks of a long-armed troll, that grabs folk by their heels, drags them to their deaths below.

I’m no troll. Ghostly arms, full of broken bones, cannot grab, cannot drag.

I jumped, centuries ago. Never left.

Sometimes, others come to jump. I whisper to those whose resolve falters. I sit beside smashed bodies, hoping one will join me. They never do.

I crave company. So, now I whisper to all who linger. My legend grows. Still, I’m lonely.

Won’t you join me? Just one more step...