Dog Suicide Bridge Novels & Stories

The third swerved, rising higher into the sky to prepare for a kamikaze dive. "Alex, look out!" Elena screamed. The third drone didn't go for the SUV. It went for the bridge they were about to cross a narrow, rusted-out span over a deep, rocky ravine. The drone slammed into the support cables, its payload detonating with a blinding flash. The bridge groaned. The asphalt beneath the SUV began to tilt. "Alexander!" Elena lunged for the steering wheel, but it was too late. The SUV tipped forward, the front tires spinning in mid-air as the bridge gave way. They were falling not into a digital abyss this time, but into a very real, very jagged canyon.

Forty years after fragment release. The forty-three bridge-humans were aging. Youngest was fifty-eight. Oldest was ninety-seven. Bodies degrading. Flesh failing. Physical forms approaching natural death. And nobody knew what happened when bridge-human died. Marcus had abandoned his body deliberately. Consciousness had transitioned fully to between before physical death. That was chosen. That was planned. That was controlled. But what happened when bridge-human died naturally? When body failed while consciousness was split between realities? When death came to hybrid existence?

The cold breeze ruined my hair while I and my daughter Taly crossed the bridge away from our home. My husband Greg died because of drunkness. He falls on this bridge while going home. He left us with nothing but his huge debt from two lending companies. Taly was only one year old and the only thing that covered her body was the thick jacket I bought one year ago.

It is rude and pathetic, but most people lack bravery and basic decency. I am a Bridge. It is a role I chose before I was born into this lifetime. My soul has reincarnated since the first human was created. Really gives meaning to the “old soul” label. To be a bridge, one’s soul must have been reincarnated for thousands of years and have mastered most of the roles they have chosen in previous lives. Few souls choose to be a Bridge. It is a very challenging soul role to level out of.

" Lena collapsed onto the floor completely, her face ashen and lifeless. Meanwhile, a thousand miles away, in a small seaside town, I was getting married. The sea breeze carried a damp, salty smell. I sat by my window, looking outside, my eyes going warm. A bridal carriage stood in the yard. Its frame was carved from fine golden rosewood, the details worked with painstaking care. What caught the eye most, though, were the countless pearls set into the wood—each one round and full, like scattered moonlight. Everyone who saw it couldn't help but gasp. "Good Lord, what did this cost?" Susan stood beside me, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes. "As long as my girl's happy, that's al

And the bridge reminded me of his memories of him. **** Flashback (Two years ago) * I was standing on the edge of the bridge and was thinking of killing myself, but I was scared to do so because if I did that, then I would not just end my life but also the life of a baby which was within me. But then, if I died by jumping from here, then dad would find me out and kill my baby because I wasn’t married yet and got pregnant with my boyfriend’s baby, who disappeared all of a sudden when he heard about the news of his baby breathing within me.

Vera asked softly, almost to herself. “Kira’s parents died in a crash,” he said, dry and detached. Vera inhaled sharply, pressing a palm to her mouth as her eyes glistened with tears. Orion couldn’t help but notice—he thought, almost against himself, ‘she looks beautiful with tears in her eyes.’ “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. He shrugged, indifferent. “Kira didn’t know them well. She won’t hurt as much.” “No, I mean I’m sorry for you.” Her words were direct.

rasp, barely rising above the roar of the fire in the floors above. He found them at the "Bridge of Sighs"—a narrow, natural stone arch that spanned the gap between the internal Archive and the hidden river exit. The bridge was barely three feet wide, suspended over a two-hundred-foot drop into the churning, icy waters of the Appalachian gorge. The Guardian of the Threshold

– He said, following the bridge of destiny, leaving his wife, who chose to be a haunt. Even though he looked at that girl after he came back, he went towards the bathroom afterwards, took the dog out, dried it off, buried it in the backyard, then emptied and cleaned the bathtub, proceeding to his sister's room, he took a rope, a towel, some knives, he wrapped it around his neck then, amidst his frightened look, she gave her last and only scream.

As we stepped out of the car, the driver was quick to take a turn and drive back to the coven. “Just a little walk and we will be there in an hour or two,” Grace said, pointing to the bridge before us. We walked over stepping on the bride and danced from one end to the other. It was made of nothing but ropes and one silly mistake means the very end. The bottom was too dense for the eyes to see its end.