Into the Still Night Air
The full moon was high in the sky. It was impossibly bright and impossibly large: it reminded Jim of a documentary he had seen on dinosaurs. The moon had been bigger, back then.
He shivered, and not from the cold. Stupidly, he looked to his side, half-expecting some flesh-eating monster to pounce. But of course there was nothing there. The most threatening creature he was likely to meet on the Moors was a sheep with a headache.
‘Come on,’ called Sam, and Jim’s gaze snapped to the top of the tor. The moonlight pouring down on her pale skin almost made Sam look like a ghost. The effect was only slightly ruined by the freckles shotgunned over her cheeks.
‘It’s almost time,’ she said as Jim hurried up to meet her. Normally he would be afraid of breaking a leg, clambering over uneven rocks in the middle of the night, but this night was almost as bright as day.
She smiled as he reached her and pulled an old fob watch from her coat pocket. Nice prop, he thought.
‘All right,’ said Sam, and turned around. She looked up at the moon, then down at the base of the tor. ‘It should be here any… time…’ – she raised her arm and pointed at the air in front of her feet – ‘Now.’
Jim couldn’t see anything for a few seconds, and then – he gasped. There were little dots of light there, little motes of dust catching the moonlight where before there had been clear air – but more than that, there was something flat and long, made of glass.
‘All right,’ said Sam, triumphant now. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the edge. He pulled back.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What? You can see it, right? The bridge?’
Bridge? he thought.
‘You want to try walking on it?’ Surely not. She let out a bark of laughter and smiled a toothy grin.
‘Come on. Trust me, Jim.’
He looked at her. You’re crazy, he thought, and nodded. Her smile was infectious.
Hand in hand, they stepped over the edge.