(Chapter 2)

 The Bridge: Crossing Into Change

The road narrowed as the forest deepened, and then it appeared—an old wooden bridge, its timbers worn smooth by years of weather and footsteps. It arched gently over a stream that whispered beneath, carrying fallen leaves downstream like messages from the trees.  

The traveler paused. Bridges are never just wood and nails. They are thresholds—silent invitations to cross from one state of being into another. On one side lay the familiar: the winding dirt road, the comfort of what had already been seen. On the other side stretched the unknown, veiled in mist and possibility.  

The bridge creaked underfoot, not in warning, but in welcome. Each step was a choice, a surrender to movement. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if it too understood the weight of crossing. Sunlight broke through the canopy, striking the water below in shards of gold, reminding the traveler that even uncertainty can shimmer.  

To cross a bridge is to admit that standing still is no longer enough. It is to trust that the path ahead, though unseen, will shape you in ways the old road never could.  

And so, the traveler walked on—not because the other side promised answers, but because the act of crossing itself was the answer.  

Chapter 3 link 🔗

https://www.suibzz.com/blog/short-story-3/the-tent-shelter-in-the-silence-20