Stage Two : Bridge

Bridge - Kev encounters a literal and metaphorical crossing. He's tested and having passed leaves the known behind, stepping into a world of oddities and subtle magic.

Checkout the journey so far…

---

Kev reached the bridge just as the clouds gave up pretending not to rain. It wasn’t much of a bridge. More of a suggestion, really. Old stones and splintered beams stretched across a thin chasm that still managed to hum with a kind of bottomless menace. Mist curled from the depths like it was whispering secrets.

He stood at the edge, coat buttoned all the way up, biscuit tin tucked beneath one arm.

“Looks… rickety,” he said aloud to nobody.

The bridge swayed in the breeze. Or maybe it was just breathing.

He’d been walking all morning, following no map, trusting the dented compass that liked to point in whatever direction felt emotionally appropriate. It had brought him here, to this threshold, this trembling line between Before and After.

He took a step forward.

Then stopped.

Something in his chest went cold. Not a monster. Not magic. Just a thought. A very old, very quiet thought that crept in unnoticed: What if you’re not the right sort of helpful?

He looked down at his boots, damp and unsure.

Heroes didn’t wear mismatched socks.

Heroes didn’t carry folding stools.

Heroes didn’t get lost on the way to the bakery.

He took a step back.

“This is probably someone else’s quest,” he mumbled. “A bigger someone. With shinier teeth.”

Behind him, the path back home curled invitingly through the trees.

Ahead, the bridge waited, patient and old and still.

Kev sat on his stool. Opened the biscuit tin. Nibbled a custard cream. The rain patted his shoulders like an apology.

He’d been mildly helpful most of his life. Returning dropped scarves. Unknotting cursed shoelaces. Comforting weeping willows during pollen season.

But saving the world?

That felt like… a different job.

Across the bridge, something moved in the mist. Just for a second. A flicker of fur. A glint of eye. Something watching. Waiting.

Kev closed the tin and hugged it tight.

“I’m not the hero,” he whispered. “I’m just… Kev.”

The mist stirred again.

And then a voice, not from the mist, but from behind.

“You’re late,” it said.

Kev turned sharply.

A creature stood there — cloaked in wet leaves, fur bristling, antlers adorned with tiny bells that didn’t ring. It had paws like paintbrushes and eyes like wet ink.

“I’m sorry—do I know you?” Kev stammered.

“You will,” it said. “But only if you cross.”

Kev looked back at the bridge.

And then, with the sort of sigh that contains years of unfinished stories, he stood.

“Maybe just one step,” he said.

He took it.

The bridge groaned.

Then cracked.

---

🛠 Story-Craft Note: Refusal of the Call

This moment in Kev’s journey mirrors the classic Refusal of the Call from Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey. It’s not just about the danger ahead—it’s about self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and questioning whether one’s quiet strengths could ever matter in a loud world.

The bridge represents more than geography. It’s the threshold between Kev’s familiar world and the unknown. His hesitation reveals that heroic growth doesn’t begin with swords or dragons—it begins with uncertainty, the tug-of-war between fear and possibility.

The appearance of the cloaked creature introduces mystery and mentorship, much like the archetypal supernatural guide. But even this “summons” feels ambiguous, leaving Kev (and the reader) unsure: is this the beginning of something wondrous, or something terrible?

Ending on a cliffhanger gives readers space to reflect on the stakes—not just external ones, but internal ones too. Crossing the bridge means crossing into transformation… but not all who cross return the same.

Takeaway for storytellers: Doubt Is the Doorway

The moment your character hesitates is not a weakness in the story—it is the story. Doubt reveals humanity. It makes your character relatable, vulnerable, and real. The decision not to act right away gives weight to every future action. It also creates emotional tension that deepens the reader’s investment.

A bridge is a classic symbol, but it only becomes meaningful when the crossing is earned. Don’t rush it. Let your character waver. Let them question everything. Because when they finally step forward, we’ll know it matters.

---

This isn’t just Kev’s Odyssey… You’re all invited to join along

👉 Subscribe to get each new step of Kev’s Odyssey delivered straight to your inbox.

👉 Share with fellow travellers, daydreamers, and the mildly helpful in your life.

👉 Comment and let Kev know how each prompt inspires your own micro fiction odyssey.