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The Old Man and the Black Bridge

2 mins· ·
Mythic Fiction Ghosts Ruins Memory Warning
Vicente Manuel Muñoz Milchorena
Author
Vicente Manuel Muñoz Milchorena
Cybersecurity Professional | Writer and Editor | People Person

The old man traveled through the canal, admiring the surrounding area. What had once been a decadent yet sprawling city was now dormant—a slowly vanishing legacy of a time when humanity prospered beyond the ghastly domes and spires they called home.

He knew the terrain well, up to the main bridge everyone called the Black Bridge. No one dared cross it, though no one could say exactly why. The old man was not superstitious, but he valued his life more than his younger peers—many of whom had never returned, many years ago.

His raft was impressive, considering the rare material used in its construction. He played it off, ignoring questions about its origin. In truth, the old man knew exactly what lay beyond the Black Bridge.

In his youth, he had crossed it. He discovered a thriving settlement that traded with neighbors to the north and south. Some of these neighbors knew of a place where quality metal could be found.

That metal became a valuable commodity. The young man helped dismantle old ships to recycle the materials. For his efforts, he was rewarded: land, a house, and enough trading currency to live in basic comfort for several years without working.

But he chose to leave it all behind and move north—toward the lands once ruled by the Corporations, where their monuments still littered the horizon. Many of these relics were being torn down, their histories erased.

During one such operation, his group made a chilling discovery: a human, trapped in a metal cocoon. Alive. Waking it had been a terrible mistake. The being took wrathful vengeance. They ran—not far, but they ran.

The young man was the only survivor. The ghost of the old world warned him: If you return, I will come for you. Warn the others. Leave, or suffer the same fate.

He did warn them. He kept running. He returned home.

To this day, the old man watches the Black Bridge. Once, he saw the silhouette of a figure he immediately recognized: the ghost of the old world. For a full day, they stared at each other without moving. Then the ghost faded.

And so did the spirit of the young man.

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