Bridge Of Terabithia Novels & Stories

But she’d always had a soft heart for animals, and the thought of doing nothing for the creature was out of the question. Thea looked around, her gaze landing on a large rock. When she picked it up, she guessed it was at least fifty pounds. She placed it on the bridge’s edge, and when the bridge held, she knew that she had to at least try to get across. She took one step onto the bridge. It held. She breathed a sigh of relief as she was about to take another step. But when she took that second step, something cracked under her feet. She felt something shift under her. Frozen with fear, she was about to step back onto land when something hard wrapped around her waist and lifted her into the a

The night before we are supposed to make our marriage official at the town hall, I decide to leave my fiance, Don Luca Camorra. For five years, Luca's friends have believed I'm nothing more than a gold digger. No one believes it more than Giulia Sereni, the girl who grew up alongside him. She claims that a woman like me—a girl who claws her way out of the slums—can never hide the greed in her eyes. So, to prove that I love Luca for who he is, not for his money, I don't spend a single cent of his money throughout all those years. Even the engagement rings we exchanged five years ago are carved from wood. But when Giulia finds out, she only sneers. "Someone who asks for nothing usu

It clattered, teetered on the far edge, and held, forming a narrow, treacherous path over the fiery drop. “COME ON!” Anton roared, holding out his hand. Sabatine stared at the makeshift bridge, at the flames licking at its middle, at Anton’s outstretched hand on the other side. There was no time for fear, for calculation. There was only trust. He ran. Two steps onto the brass beam. It wobbled violently under his weight. A flame caught his trouser leg. He didn’t slow. He kept his eyes locked on Anton’s. He was halfway across when the beam, superheated and stressed, began to buckle in the middle with a sickening groan.

As the mansion sat perched on the hill, Sherry had not once left the place on foot. The wide bridge was made of reinforced steel and concrete, withstanding the harsh winds and rains that regularly lashed the Cross Empire. On either side of the bridge stood towering pillars with bulbs, placed at equal intervals. Walking across the bridge that connected the mansion to the mainland was both liberating and terrifying. The height was dizzying, and the bridge loomed over the sprawling city below. For someone with a fear of heights, it could easily be a nightmare.

"Daisy, your magic is much more powerful than you realize. And when your magic combined with Noah's werewolf bloodline, it created something very rare." "What kind of rare?" I asked nervously. "Gabriel isn't just a hybrid," Luna said. "He's what's called a Bridge Child." "A Bridge Child?" Nick repeated. "A child born with the ability to permanently connect the werewolf and witch worlds," Luna explained. "There's only been one other Bridge Child in the last thousand years." I felt my heart stop. "What happened to the other one?" Luna's face became sad. "Both the werewolves and the witches fought over him. In the end, the fighting killed him before he could fulfill his destiny."

The air grew colder, and the silence was broken only by the sound of their own ragged breaths. After what felt like an eternity, they reached a vast chasm that yawned before them. A narrow bridge, barely wide enough for a single person, spanned the chasm, leading to a cavern on the other side. The bridge itself seemed to be carved from a luminous crystal, pulsating with a faint, otherworldly energy. Evie stared at the bridge, a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. The inscription hadn't mentioned a bridge. Was this part of the path, or a trap?

THERE IS JUST NO WAY HE WILL. NEVER. EVER. Therefore, Slyvester saved the bridge from falling by sacrificing himself. He ran towards Terban and then held him tightly. “My baby!” Slyvester shouted before wrapping his arm around Terban’s waist. Terban freezes like a statue. Slyvester lifted his head, leaning his chin on Terban’s chest. The gap between their faces is so close that Terban can see his appearance more clearly than ever. “I really miss you, my baby,” Slyvester said, acting cute.

“But their story is famous around here. Witches who tried to change fate and paid the price.” We stare at each other for a moment, the weight of the story pressing down on us. “Well, I guess they should’ve just accepted their fate, huh?” she shrugs, and I chuckle. Way to work her angle. Relentless. As we approach a stone bridge known as the Bridge of Lost Souls, a fog grows thick, almost like a curtain trying to keep intruders out. Each step towards it sends goosebumps through me, and a coldness envelopes us.

With both arms outstretched and the strong wind blowing through my body, my voice and Loyd and Lucas' hunt boomed. The asphalt road I was walking on was cracked. The pillars supporting the bridge connecting Terrasen with the outer city were also broken. Slowly, there was a cracking sound, and blaammm! The bridge collapsed into the river. The wild werewolves and low demons fell into the wide river. The rest at the end of the bridge could not advance any further. They are trapped at the end of a broken bridge. I stood accompanied by Ailyn. We saw the wild werewolves and lower demons who couldn't advance to Terrasen begin to retreat back to the outcast city.

Tilla staggered backward as she felt her toes dangle precariously over the edge of a large crevice. Withdrawing rapidly from where the floor plummeted sharply before her, Tilla clutched the paper to her chest as propped herself against one side of the hallway. Her heart excited by another brush with death, Tilla peeled the note away from her fluttering breast to peer down nervously at the next line that had been etched upon the page: ‘Cross the bridge.’ Glancing over at the ropes that hung languidly over the vast crater of stalagmites to her side, then back down at the note. Her eyes traveling over the word “bridge” once more, before returning to the collection of ropes and rickety boards th