The Legend of
Bastien
By Karen Singer
Chapter 21 – The Other Side of the Bridge
What
happened in Bastien was big news for a little while. But as always, even big news gets replaced by
bigger or more recent news, and even in a town like Bastien, life had to go
on.
The
state didn’t abandon the town of Bastien completely though. An agency was set up inside the courthouse to
help anyone in the town who was interested in relocating to somewhere
else. At first, nobody expected anyone
to take advantage of it, but there were more bitter memories in the town
concerning the Bastien family than most people realized. That, and the allure of what might be just
over that bridge was a powerful one. One
by one, entire families went into that courthouse to inquire about what might
be available for them in the outside world.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
The
entire Bastien family was buried in the same section of the town cemetery that
held all the rest of the Bastiens before them.
But where the rest of those graves had elaborate headstones and markers,
this time all the Bastiens got nothing more than small markers. Just enough to say who had been buried there,
when they had been born, and when they had died.
Elijah’s
son Noah had created all those small grave markers for the family, while his
father worked on a different one.
Early
one morning, a truck stopped at the end of the bridge, and Elijah and Noah
struggled to lift a specially carved stone from their truck. They set it down just off the end of the
bridge, not far from the chasm where Chrissy had fallen. The face of the stone had been chiseled
smooth. Like a tombstone, words were
etched into the smooth face of the rock:
Chrissy
We’re
sorry
Thank
you for saving us
Please
forgive us
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
Someone
knocking on the kitchen door during breakfast was nothing new to Hugh and Bea
Stockoff. It happened a lot. Day or night.
Hugh got up to answer it and was surprised to see Burty standing there with
a large bunch of wildflowers in his hand.
Burty coming to the house for anything wasn’t just unusual, it was
unheard of. But carrying flowers? “Burty?
What’s up?”
“I
need some time off,” Burty told him.
Bea,
now seeing who it was and noticing the flowers, came up behind her
husband. “Flowers?”
“Time
off for what?” Hugh asked.
“I
heard there’s a grave marker for Chrissy out by the bridge. I want to take these there for her.”
Once
again, Hugh noticed that Burty was still referring to Chrissy as a her. As usual, he didn’t try to correct him.
“I’ll
work, extra-long later today,” Burty added quickly. “Twice as long. I just need time to walk out to the bridge
and back…if I can find it.”
Hugh
looked down at the flowers in Burty’s hands, then back to his face. “Burty, don’t worry. You won’t have to work a minute more than
normal. And instead of walking, I’ll
drive you there myself.”
“Not
yet!” Bea interrupted. She looked at her
husband. “Not until I’ve had a chance to
pick some flowers of my own to take out there.”
Hugh
nodded. “Sounds like a good idea.”
Shortly
after, the stone out by the bridge became like a Mecca for many of the people
of Bastien, as wild and homegrown flowers seemed to pile around it everywhere.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
The
people of Bastien didn’t own anything in the town. Everything was owned by the Bastien family,
which made matters even worse as the authorities tried to sort everything out. Strangely, the people of Wisconsin, and the
entire United States, seemed to open their hearts to the poor people of Bastien. One by one, the cattle trucks rolled in, and
the farmers moved out. Family after
family left the town in search of a better life, most of them already having
jobs to go to that were found by the agency trying to help them.
Eventually,
enough people left that it became obvious that nobody in the town could stay
there, not without any kind of supporting structure that the community had
provided.
Principal
Pomeroy left to become a math teacher in a high school in Minneapolis.
Elijah
Shultz wasn’t a licensed mortician, but a mortuary in Milwaukee offered to take
him and his son in and help them get their licenses.
Tess
left with Fred and Betty Tucker who had been offered jobs as assistant managers
in a large store in Madison, Wisconsin.
Tess had been promised a job in a nearby bank as one of their
tellers. She would live with Fred and Betty
for a short while until she could manage to make it on her own.
As
they approached the bridge on their way out of town, Fred stopped his truck and
they all got out to stand in front of Chrissy’s marker stone one last
time. The ground was littered with flowers,
all withered now, but the outpouring from the entire community had been nothing
less than incredible. Tess sobbed as she
got back into Fred’s truck, and he left the town of Bastien behind…for good.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
Eventually
there came a day many months later, when the authorities crawled through every
last inch of Bastien. In the end, they
came out and declared there was no one left.
The engineers walked out onto the wooden bridge to begin laying their
explosive charges.
--- §§§§§§§§§§ ---
The
words on Chrissy’s marker at the bridge said:
Chrissy
We’re
sorry
Thank
you for saving us
Please
forgive us
In
a pale-yellow house just off the main street, an ethereal hand labored hard to
finish scratching something permanent into the real-world wall of the living
room in the house:
I
forgive you.
The
ghostly hand finished the difficult task just as the explosions in the distance
began. As the bridge fell into the
chasm, and the town of Bastien fell into legend, the ghost of Chrissy dissolved
into the peaceful world of heaven.
The
End
And
possibly the end anymore stories I post on this blog. Maybe.
I won’t post it unless I finish something.
Karen
5 comments:
Thank you, Karen. That was brilliant.
And, we love all you have been so kind as to share with us. Please don't give up.
Fondly and with gratitude, Miss Michelle Miller
Hello,
Thank You for your great stories !
Régis
I’ve been reading your stories since “the bet”, and I have really enjoyed myself. Bastion was a bit too dark for me and I stopped reading it except the last few chapters just to get some closer. I would feel a loss without your stories to read, and would be very interested in more short form stories like Rasputini if it meant less of a toll on you. Please keep this going, it’s also hard as the blog is a dead medium and it’s hard to get new traffic, maybe this is the time to branch out onto a modern platform like Reddit to get your writing out there. I know a lot of authors post short lewd stories and advertise about their books on /r/abdlstories or even their patreon.
Thank you. I enjoy reading your stories.
This one was a little dark. I hope all is well.
I prefer reading about coerced volunteers like Mike and Sissy. I was hoping you could expand on the tale of Mel and Sissy - perhaps a few experiences between the end of the bet and the epilogue. She implies that he had gained control back - I wonder if she found a way to make him "enjoy" doing that.
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