Story at Eleven

     There was a bridge that crossed nothing.
     A crowd of people arrived at this bridge and were afraid to cross.
     "Why are we afraid to cross this bridge which crosses absolutely nothing?"
one of the terrified assembly asked her terrified traveling companions.
     "Perhaps it is because some idiot called this a bridge," one of the other
petrified travelers ventured.
      And no one was willing to set one goddamned foot on the thing.
     So they remained camped there for years, waiting to see if something
would rise from below and swallow the structure, or whether it would sink
into something below itself, either way proving it truly had been a bridge they had
been facing all along.
      The journey itself was forgotten in favor of the terror of the bridge
(or whatever it was).