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The Bridge That Nobody Loved by Eddie Flotte
The Bridge That Nobody Loved by Eddie Flotte

The Bridge That Nobody Loved

When I paint, I lose track of time. I am completely, perfectly present, ...like there was no time before and no time to come. Painting at Grassy, I momentarily forget that I am Limbo bound. People often seem to appear from nowhere. I can't hear them coming... "Nobody likes that bridge", said Thelma, taking me by surprise. "When they built it, the county used it as a reason to bull-doze every house along the old road, out as far as Route 9, ...took 'em all". "Except these?" I asked, meaning hers, George's, Kirlin's and the rest. "We have George to thank for that," she told me. "He drew a line in the mud up the road and that was the end of it. Magic! They left the rest of us alone. He's a powerful man," she said, motioning in the direction of George's big red house. The hush hush that kept the mysterious ways at Grassy quiet, was lost on Thelma. She spoke freely, at least to me. "See that bird," she said "that is one of Beeler's, he used to test out his magic on it, that bird's older than you are." I had caught wind of Beeler's interest in immortality, so her comments were received into an open mind. "See that cat; that is Stewart Black." "He built that house across the bay, before George turned him into a cat that is." "He wants to catch the bird so he can steal it's charm." "I guess even cats wanna live forever," She said as though thinking it through. I asked if she'd sit for a portrait and she agreed.
— Eddie Flotte


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