The Bridge

It is said in a small town south of Madison, Wisconsin called Stoughton, there is a bridge.

This bridge is just south of a bridge crossing a river on main street, and appears to be a foot bridge made of cement. Crossing this bridge leaves one with an unsettling feeling that slowly escalates to dread. These feelings are easily ignored by those who don't believe. However...

Every year this small town holds a parade, the Syttende Mai Parade, and has been holding this for over 100 years. Long before what it is today, it was dedicated to the evil of that bridge. In 1865 it was a wooden footbridge, where on May 20th, two hundred men were hung by their necks though already well dead, by their wives. They were made to suffer first, slowly bleeding into the river until it ran deep red. Their screams were heard for miles around, as they were ritually sliced open to spill their living bowls into the current of the river below.

Their crime? Nobody knows, all the people involved fled north, and started new homes, new families... new cities... but its said every 150 years... it will happen again.

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Originally uploaded on /x/ in 2007

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