“The Bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn”

t was a cloudless night. A fair weather for an old man to take a breather in the vast outdoors. The nurse wore a plain blue dress, sleeveless. Her hair tied up in a bun, the professional kind. On her face was very light makeup, and it was very flattering on her young and fair complexion. The knee-length dress proved to be a convenience when she helped her patient out of the car. Recovering from a stroke, her patient did not help himself, nor her, much as he exited the car. He was around 70 and age had carved itself on his face. Once upon a time, he was one of the most eligible bachelors in town, with both his looks and wealth. His father used to own an established recording company and he was among the elites in the music production community. However, all was gone. Still, life had been fair to him. After getting his share of the inheritance, he kicked off a new business with his wife, venturing into the world of Publishing. He was one lucky man. The business made it big, and his publishing company got famous, attracting many talented journalists and writers to want to be recruited under his wing. With the blooming operation he had at hand, life had gotten even better than before. Finally, at the age of 62, he announced his retirement, sold his share and landed himself a huge retirement dough to spend with his beloved wife.

Sitting on the wheelchair, the nurse strolled him down the new flea market. Time and time again, he had to bend over the sides to check what had caught the corner of his eye. There were many rows of stalls. Some were selling second-hand goods, the others doing their antique trade and there was an entire row selling new inventions. Goods were laid on the ground for customers to view, and only a narrow pathway between every two rows was left untouched by the goods strewn all over the market. The wheelchair was taking up the entire pathway, and the old man felt bad about it.

“Let’s leave this place. I’ve had enough. Let’s go back.”

As they turned right to leave at the end of the row, the old man thought he saw something familiar. Looking left, he saw a very familiar face staring back at him. Illumination was one problem in night flea markets. He could not see nor make out who the familiar face was, as “it” was hidden at the back of a corner stall.

“Triey, left!” He gave the instructions, clear and firm.

As they made their way past Stall [665] …they finally reached Stall No. [666]. After going through what seemed like a tadpole swimming against the ocean currents, the old man was able to take a closer look at “it”.

“Caught your eye, didn’t it?” The stall owner startled the nurse, but not the old man. He was too focused on “it”.”Last that you’ll ever find, I dare say. I had a hard time getting it twenty years ago, and if not for the debt I have, I wouldn’t to sell it.” He looked at the old man, and explained.”How much?” His eyes still focused on “it”.

“I’ll usually let it go for 120, but for you … Sir … You can have it at 100.”

“A hundred?” The old man finally looked away from “it” and faced the owner, eye to eye.

“It’s a reasonable price for something like that. It’s very well kept, and this is…” He unlatched “it” from the wall, and brought “it” to the old man, prompting him to verify his words. “It” is a picture with the foreground of a beautiful man, in white robe stained with blood. Behind him was four other, face unclear but wore similar clothes. In background, it was a mass of fire and dead bodies, in a colossal house – it was as if a war had taken place. The word “Hannibal” stuck out at the right hand corner.

“G’s poster for his finest album, Hannibal. If not for the ‘incident’, G would have been the greatest music maker in the world.”

“A hundred it is.” The old man took the poster and motioned for the nurse to wheel him back to the car.

“Last that you’ll find, I dare…” The owner’s words echoed in his mind. The old man chuckled to himself and recalled the time when the very same poster could be seen everywhere.
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Published on: 25 Apr 2007
Rating: For all ages
Author: Orangeline (ICC)
Orangeline says:

“This is a parallel story for The Phantom of the Opera, and was actually the reason I started CrossandBurn. The blog’s title and its description, The Bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn, are actually quoted from my favorite Phantom track – Point of No Return.”