by Luc Diamant
The problem wasn’t that the bridge at the end of our street led to a different place each time you crossed it, but that once out of every hundred times or so, it wouldn’t take you back. Sometimes someone would show up in the next town over, but there were also those we never saw again.
Father used to make me cross it as a punishment, to remind me of what I stood to lose by disobeying him. I always knew he was hoping I wouldn’t come back. But I did not know that it would be so lovely here.
Luc Diamant is a writer, translator, and perpetual student from Amsterdam, where he lives with his partner and their imaginary pets. His writing has appeared or will appear in The Deeps, Canthius, and Tales to Terrify, among others. You can find him on Instagram and Twitter @lucdaniel94.