It’s a scene straight out of a horror movie- at 11:45 PM on the night of the full moon, the hills rolling with fog, a young teenager sets off in their car to drive to Witch’s Bridge. The plot thickens when you know the history of Witch’s Bridge and the alleged haunting of it. Even without the history lesson, it’s a terrifying place at face value. It takes a quarter of a mile walk along railroad tracks to get there, and I nearly turned tail and ran for every ten feet I walked. The Hunter’s Supermoon provided plenty of light, so there was no need for pesky flashlights that could get someone caught on their way to the bridge. Unfortunately, the coyotes seemed to have gotten the memo about the creepy atmosphere and decided to yip just often enough to remind me that they were still there.
The fog covered everything, making it difficult to tell when the bridge was actually coming up. If not for the sound of water pounding beneath the wooden planks of the bridge, I might have walked all the way across before realizing I had passed it. The scent on the wind changed from crisp, country air to something thicker, muskier. Standing at the head of the bridge, I chanced a glance up at the sky and was mesmerized. The sky was perfectly clear, despite how foggy it was. It was as if all of the clouds fell out of the sky and now roamed the earth. The trees that line the railroad tracks were behind me, and the fields before me were full of prairie grass that rustled with each breeze passing through. Somewhere nearby, a bird made a call, but I was too awestruck to notice or be startled. The full moon cast an ethereal light on the water and if it had been a clearer night, I’m sure I would have seen my reflection on the water even though it was nearly thirty feet to the crick’s surface. Something about the full moon, which should have made the place scarier, softened the harsh edges and showed me something beautiful. My breath caught in my throat and I took a second to appreciate the beauty of the landscape and the tranquility of a late night at an abandoned bridge in the middle of nowhere. Unfortunately, hearing a car drive down the road snapped me out of my reverie and I was reminded that I was, in fact, alone, and I started to make the trek back to my car.
Overall, Witch’s Bridge is somewhere I have gone many times before, and yet I had never seen it like this. At first it was paralyzing and heart-stopping- my adrenaline was pumping and I jumped at every little sound because I was so on edge. Then, a subtle change happened and the moon cast it in a whole new light (no pun intended) and it was just another bridge by some foggy fields that seemed so peaceful. Amazing how a simple change of perspective can affect ones emotions so easily.