It had been nearly 15years since I had crossed this bridge and now Iam here at the front of it needing to cross it. As I look along it the memory that still haunts me came back. I was 7 years old and I was going to cross this bridge with my friends when a gang of boys came and started hitting us. We were all badly injured and one of my friends died. Hearing a bang, I suddenly snap out of my day dream to stare at the old, rotting wood of the bridge.
Holding my breath I took the first step across the bridge worrying that it was about to collapse. I walked slowly across the bridge hearing it creaking underneath me. When I got half way across, my fear started to slowly go away. Now I started walking a little quicker until I got to the end of this bridge. Was it really that bad? As I stepped off I felt happy that I had done it and also a little silly for even thinking that it was going to be bad.
When I got to the grave yard I opened the rusty old gate. It groaned so it made me think that no one had been here for a very long time. I walked past rows and rows of head stones and then I found my mums.I carefully laid the flowers that I had brought next to her head stone then slowly turned and walked away.
Walking back I was happy because I had faced my fears of crossing the bridge. This time when I got to the bridge I didn’t stop I just walked across it without thinking about it. Having decided that it isn’t normal to be beat up on the bridge, I was going to go to the grave yard every month to lay flowers on my mums grave.