Suspension Bridge

The Suspension Bridge is a horror story about a terrifying incident that happened one night on a lonely bridge in the mountains of Japan.

This is a story I was told by a Japanese friend of mine. He swore it was the absolute truth, but he refused to tell me where exactly in Japan it all happened. He said that two people died and he was questioned many times by the police.

At the time, he was 17 years old and had managed to find himself a summer job, working in a store that sold electrical goods. One day, after work, the manager of the store decided to bring all of the employees out for dinner. The restaurant they were going to was up in the mountains and, to get there, they had to cross an old suspension bridge that stretched across a deep valley.

There were five of them in total, so they decided to take two cars. The manager drove the car in front, with two teenage boys inside. My friend drove the car behind and his colleague was in the passenger seat.

They started out straight after work, but the manager took a wrong turn, so by the time they reached the suspension bridge, it was almost twilight. There was a light rain and the bridge was covered in a strange, wispy fog.

The manager drove across the suspension bridge and my friend followed close behind in the other car. However, when they reached the center of the bridge, the manager’s car came to a sudden halt.

The two people in the car behind were puzzled. They couldn’t understand why their boss had stopped in the middle of the bridge. After waiting a few minutes, they began to get impatient. Since they showed no signs of moving, my friend was about to get out and see what the trouble was.

Just then, they saw the rear door of the car in front open and the two boys who were sitting in the back seat got out. My friend opened his door and was about to ask them what was wrong, but the words died in his throat.

He heard the boys screaming their lungs out. Suddenly, the two young men joined hands and started to run like crazy. They rushed over to the side of the suspension bridge and threw themselves over the guardrail.

Horrified, my friend rushed over to the guardrail and peered over the side, but he couldn’t see anything because of the mist. The drop was over 100 feet. Nobody could survive that. He stood there for a few moments in stunned silence, staring down into the foggy abyss.

When he went over to check the car in front, he found the manager crouched over the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles were white. Tears were streaming down his face and he kept muttering under his breath, over and over, “I want to do it but I can’t do it I want to do it but I can’t do it I want to do it but I can’t do it…”

My friend called the police and when they arrived, they had to pry the manager’s hands off the steering wheel. They took him away in an ambulance, still muttering and gibbering as if he had taken leave of his sanity. Later that night, the bodies of the two young men were fished out of the river.

My friend and his colleague were persistently questioned by the police, but they couldn’t shed any light on the puzzling incident. The police seemed to think that it was some kind of weird suicide pact.

A few months after that, my friend went to visit the store manager, who was recovering in a mental hospital. After some small talk, he turned the conversation to the strange events that had taken place that tragic summer night.

The store manager beckoned him closer and whispered in his ear.He told him that, as they were driving across the suspension bridge, he was shocked to see a woman suddenly emerge from the fog. She stood right in front of the car and he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting her. The woman had long black hair and was dressed in a brilliant white shroud.

All of a sudden, he noticed that the mist was creeping closer, encircling the car. Then, from the depths of the wisping fog, a group of children appeared. They were dressed in similar white shrouds and their faces were deformed and smeared with blood.

Before they knew what was happening, the grotesque children surrounded the car and began beating on the windows and doors with their fists.

The children began chanting, “Join us come with us join us come with us join us come with us…”

The manager said that the children’s haunting voices echoed around in his head and he felt powerless to resist. He clung onto the steering wheel for dear life. At that moment, he dearly wanted to die, but some small part of him desperately wanted to live.

He heard the boys in the back seat screaming as the children opened the door and dragged them out into the mist. The terrified manager had to fight the urge to join them in death.

After hearing this story, my friend was shaking with fear. As he rose to leave, the manager grabbed him roughly by the arm and hissed, “I think that’s what happened, but don’t tell the police. They’ll never believe you. Sometimes I don’t even believe myself. Just promise me one thing… Promise me that you will never attempt to cross that suspension bridge again, or they’ll come for you and drag you to your death as well…”