The journey had been hard and long and the bridge finally stood before him. Long and winding. Unsafe. The wind howled around the rocks. The shadows had already grown long.
He had come too late.
On the top of the rocks on the other side a dark figure observed him attentively. He had come too far to care, walked too long not to act. His family. His life. It was all gone anyway.
He took a step out on the bridge, the bridge he had walked so many times before, so long ago. It was the same bridge, but it sounded different. Threatening. Menacing.
He walked on.
He saw the figure spread its wings and glide off. It circled the skies as he staggered slowly along the squeaking wood. The wind and his weight made it sway from one side to the other. He looked up towards the sky.
The figure was no longer there.
His steps were slow, but firm. He had nothing to lose any more. Nothing to live for.
A loud crash made the planks underneath him fall for a moment. He stood still to keep balance. Underneath he could see pieces of wood fall towards the abyss below. The dark one turned, headed back to strike again.
He ran. Long steps took him along the bridge, a bridge ready to break even without the second strike. The figure cracked through the construction. He leaped as the path underneath him disappeared, and grabbed desperately in the air.
A bush. Firm land. He was hanging from the top of the wall, watching the wood pull the monster down into the nothingness below. He pulled himself up, crawled into safety.
He was finally home.