#WritePhoto Water Under The Bridge

February 23, 2017 — 7 Comments

beneath-the-bridge

Jumping along on stepping-stones, making an effort to stay dry, we cross the stream and climb the hill on the other side. Our party had broken up early because a sudden thunder-storm toppled the picnic table and sent the folding chairs flying everywhere.  Collecting our belongings and soggy food we ran for cover.  We found shelter beneath a railroad bridge that had been abandoned, and was crumbling into ruins.

This was once the busy main line that connected the industrial cities with the farms in the rules countryside.  Passengers and freight traveled regularly on this railroad for both commercial and recreational purposes.  Many wealthy city folks owned large estates in the country that employed hundreds of servants and maintenance staff.  They came out for the weekends to fox hunt and throw lavish house parties. As the aristocracy lost fame and fortune, only the royals could afford such extravagances.  The big houses were abandoned one by one.  There was no work for butlers or maids, and few servants had other skills to sustain them. Everyone moved away from the area in order to find work or live within their reduced means.

The muddy water rushed down from above, carrying debris and some loose toys and lawn furniture and skeleton remains  that had been swept away in the torrential downpour.  The waste that society creates floated by in the current.  Our history, our ancestors’ skills and dreams, were washed away before our eyes.  When the sun came out again our spirits were still dampened.  We slowly emerged from our muddy perch to search for our companions.  The happy picnic by the brook had become a somber reminder of sudden quirks of fate.

This story is an interpretation of this weeks photo prompt by Sue Vincent.  Please visit to contribute or meet other writers here.

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