Bitten by the Devil’s Granddaughter

I was walking across the silver bridge and gazing at the calm waters on either side of me. There were reeds poking out from the shallow banks and water lilies floating there, little green leafy islands in the wilderness.

There was no one else to be found walking, or even standing, on the long, narrow, sleek silver bridge. I remember finding that odd, and come to think of it, I find it odd now as I am recounting all of this. I seem to remember there was a single Schwinn bike chained to the bridge about halfway down. 

As I passed the bike at the halfway point on the bridge, I began to feel trepidation thinking about reaching the other side. No matter what my random feelings might have been, I didn’t have any other options. I had to keep moving forward in order to get back home. 

I had been back and forth on this bridge hundreds of times, going from home to work and back again. I had never had this feeling before, so why was I experiencing it now?

I conceded that it must be because the bridge was completely empty, which was entirely unusual. Satisfied with this answer, I continued on my way despite my uneasy feelings. 

The uneasy feelings amplified the closer I got to the other side. As I got closer to the end of the bridge, I could make out the small form of a child standing to the right side of the bridge platform. Pretending like this did not bother me at all, I continued walking in my even and clipped pace without looking in the child’s direction. 

“Please…sir…”

It was most certainly coming from the urchin. Just as I was passing the urchin, it shot out a hand and grabbed my right arm, just below the elbow. 

“Hey!” I shouted, finally looking at the repulsive creature. “Watch it!”

“Please…” it muttered. It was the voice of a young poor girl. “Please, spare some change…”

I tried to shake off her grip, but she was unrelenting. “Please, sir. A bit of food…”

“Damn you, bloody girl!” I shouted, fighting harder to be free from her grasp. ‘Damn you to hell! Go!” 

She opened her wide mouth and I could see rows of small, pointed, shiny teeth. She pulled her head back, a current of greasy hair cascading down, and then she lunged forward. Sinking her teeth into my right arm. 

‘Bloody hell!” I cried, pushing her off me with a fierce kick. “My arm…you bit me!” I could see the teeth marks and the pinpricks of dark blood that were sprouting. 

Without any explanation, the dark urchin ran off into the cover of brush and trees. Running on all fours, like a wild animal. 

I didn’t stop to process, and I didn’t think to chase after her. Instead, I kept on walking in my even clipped pace toward home. Pressing the bite marks against my shirt sleeves. 

I washed my right arm under the tap when I got back, and I rubbed it with copious amounts of lotion before falling into bed. 

I woke up this morning and have been trying to process what happened to me the evening before. I still have not been able to fully process it. The uneasy feelings I had last evening have not abated, and I feel physically ill as I write this. Hopefully it is just the common cold.