Snowy the Goblin and the Cross Over Bridge

The South air blew across the still river, carting with it, the defined smell of salt. Close to freezing to death, Snowy walked along hurriedly across Milton Bridge, which was built of stones. Others would have found it odd, a stone bridge built in the middle of a city, of which everything was built so stylishly, that no one seemed to cross the bridge, and instead chose to avoided it. Many people thought of as a statue, only there to impress tourist. But that wasn't why Milton Bridge was never used, or never used by humans. It was simply because of its magical use. It was a portal into a world in which was unknown to many.

As Snowy passed, a young boy on a bike he hit an invisible wall and slipped through a door. The force, left the young boy on the bike stunned, however the boy soon snapped out of his shock and kept on peddling down the last few meters of Milton Bridge, shaking he’s head and whispering something about watching too many movies. This was what it was like, humans dismaying the oddest things as tricky of their minds, like it wasn't something that should be dwell on any more than a few seconds.

After what must have been hours, a thirty year old woman passed the Milton Bridge but stopped. The woman was only a few meters to where the invisible wall was. Did she know? No. Surely that wasn't possible. A human woman much like this one, would never believe such stories children told. Stories of other worldly creatures. Of the transporting bridge, and that once you cross this stone arch; you were transported into a world where the stories of werewolf’s, vampires and other magical creatures weren't just stories, but real and alive creatures.

Adults like the woman now, who now stood staring at what she could see as thin glass like snowflakes falling, couldn't usually hear the children’s stories and when they did their story sounded different, changed in to something adults wanted to hear.

Weird. Snow never looked this fragile or this beautiful in any part of the world. The woman held out her palm expecting a snowflake to land softly on her bare skin but instead it melted to a cold drop of water like an old tear that was left to long before it evaporated. The women looked wide eyed, almost frightened. Some stories are true. She stepped forward with caution, expecting to be hit by the invisible wall that the children in her year two class believed was there, but nothing happed as she passed halfway.

Okay, so maybe, not all stories are true.