Cold wind whips my hair into my face and I shiver. It’s almost midnight. The only sound besides the wind is the ticking of my cooling engine.
Everyone knows the story; the woman in white, who haunts the bridge. Teenagers dare each other to cross; friends turn off their car’s headlights to see what will happen.
I see a flash of white in my periphery and a sharp prickle runs down my spine. Despite my fear, I want to see her. But for a different reason to most.
She is my sister. And I want to know why she jumped.
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alt="Heartwood by R.J. Cannon"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Denied by J.B. Corso"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Cold Recognition by Andreas Flögel"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Winter Feast by Pauline Yates"
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>