Bridge of Sighs

They met on the bridge, as they always had, the man in white and the man in blue. They had done this almost since the beginning, when the stars themselves were new things. The meeting place had sometimes changed, but they had always kept the appointment. They were compelled to, for reasons they did not want to think about too much.

As always, they met in fall. The leaves were falling, and some floated down the creek that flowed beneath the bridge. The two men watched them for a short while. They let a comfortable silence simmer before they spoke.

When they did speak, it was about very general things, as it always had been. They never spoke of their professions. It was a very sensitive subject for the both of them. To speak too much of what each did for a living was to risk alienating the other. This was something that neither of them wanted.

But they never talked for long. They couldn’t. Their professions called out for them, and so they had to part.

The parting was the hardest part of it. It meant a return to the way that things were now, when all the two wanted was a return to the way things had been before. Yet that could never be. Too much beyond the control of either of them had happened. Events were set to be, events that would mean the utter and final separation of both of them.

And yet, despite this, they would continue to meet, the man in white and the man in blue. Why they did was a reason only they knew. Perhaps they were trying to preserve a bit of that ancient time, when they did not oppose each other, but walked as brothers in a place where one of them could now never walk. Perhaps this was their small shelter from what had to be, an end upon a field of battle, each to lead an army against the other, in the most utter of finalities.

“Goodbye, Michael,” the man in blue said.

“Goodbye, Azazel,” the man in white said.

And then they parted, for after goodbye there is nothing else to say. They left there a heavy silence, so that any who might pass there after them would feel a deep, melancholic nostalgia, and would sigh a moment before going on again.

I loved it. If there were any grammar mistakes or anything, I wouldn't have noticed because I fell in love with this piece. It keeps me puzzled and makes me feel like I can make up my own background story to it. I think you did an amazing job and I would love to hear more of your writing in the future!

Oooh, nice.

It's amazing how much the drop of names can add so much meaning to a piece. If you had put in any other names in there, names that didn't carry those meanings, this story would feel so pointless. But put those names in there and bam, we're left with this melancholic longing because there is so much history behind them. I bow before your insight.

One thing I noticed in the formatting: There's a weird gap between the two bits of dialogue. In a story this short, it was really glaring and bothered me.

The meeting place had sometimes changed

Yet right before this, you say they met on the bridge "as they always had". Does the bridge change locations? This confused me just a smidge.

Erm, yeah, not much else to say. Why must you write these things that have nothing for me to critique? *wails*

Quite lovely, all in all.

~GryphonFledgling

Hey Conrad,

Good to see you're writing again, or at least posting again, anyway. First off, the opening two lines are fantastic. Sadly, they outshine the rest of the piece and what follows doesn't really stand up to it.

The meeting place had changed sometimes, but they always kept the appointment. They were compelled to, for reasons they did not want to think about too much.

As always, They met in fall. The leaves were falling, and some floated down the creek that flowed beneath the bridge. The two men watched them for a short while. They let a comfortable silence simmer before they spoke.

When they did speak, it was about very general things, as it always had been

The repetition of 'as always' et all is cumbersome and cluttering. Get rid of it. In flash fiction, you have to justify every word, it should be razor sharp. I swapped 'sometimes changed' around, but that's a suggestion, not a correction.

It was a very sensitive subject for the both of them. To speak too much of what each did for a living was to risk alienating the other. This was something that Neither of them wanted that.

But they never talked for long. They couldn’t. Their professions called out for them, and so they had to part.

The parting was the hardest part of it.

Cut, cut, cut. Sharpen. That last sentence, especially as a run on of 'so they had to part' needs to be reworded, what with 'parting' as 'hardest part' equally further repetition. Something like 'Parting was always difficult,' except...better.

They left there a heavy silence, such that any who might pass thereafter them would feel a deep, melancholic nostalgia, and would sigh a moment before going on again.

Slight rewording of that last sentence - as is, it implies that they left a heavy silence deliberately so that anyone who happened across the bridge would sigh, which is both petty and silly. Look, you have a cool nugget here that could become something great if you worked on it. It's a little too reminiscent of Gaiman's style for my liking (in the sense that I feel you're trying a touch too hard, maybe?) but lacking his usual rhythm and brilliance of prose - that could change though, with a little effort on your part. It's got the makings of a fable, something simple and soft, and if you polish this, it could really be something.

Hope that helped.
Cheers