A City's Mouth

The City of Genevek was outlined in silver and dipped in gold. The people were happier, healthier and somehow everyone was attractive, extremely attractive. Walking through the city was like viewing a music video. Uptown Genevek held the immaculate buildings with sculptures and twisted marble that probably held no other purpose than to look good. Just like the people, did they work? It didn’t seem like it. Their only purpose was to look good. And they were professionals at it. Downtown Genevek hosted little shops and ice cream parlors for the young families during the day. Downtown Genevek at night turned into a roaring celebration where the towns name became “Vek” during casual conversations between young twenty-somethings.

            A large bridge that stretched across the Sicer River separated downtown and uptown Genevek. The bridge was the town’s main attraction. It was 200 meters long, with high railings and curly designs that resembled vines encircling the whole structure. The entire bridge was gold, while the vines were silver. On hot summer nights, young men would take their dates to the waters edge to watch the boats pass under the bridge. The boats would alert the town with its loud horn and the bridge would lift for the boat to pass though. There was never an issue with boats passing through, until a tourist rode the bridge and accidentally changed its name to “Genevek’s Mouth”.

            The tourist’s name was Jessica. She was thirty-one years old and visiting the famous city of Genevek with a few friends. Staying at a bed&breakfast, they rented a few bikes at a shop down the street. Jessica and her friends had planned to shop all day in downtown. When she went to make her first purchase, she realized that her purse had been left behind. She decided to bike back to their bed & breakfast uptown, telling the girls she would be back in fifteen minutes. Suzy asked to go with but Jessica promised she would be right back. Jessica hopped on her bike and began pedaling her way back to the bridge. The bridge was completely open, only a few cars exiting each end. She began to pedal faster to absorb the wind off the waves as it cooled her sunburn. Sicer River’s waves splashed the city walls like bathtub water. Sunlight rays stitched across the water caps, then permanently swallowed by the waves crash. Jessica noticed that the front of her bike was higher than the back. She thought about postcards that had the bridge painted on it, and the bridge was always straight across. She thought it to be an illusion.

            The uneven pavement made sense when she heard the loud foghorn blowing from underneath her. The gates were coming up, and suddenly Jessica felt like an ant on a destroyed anthill. The caution gates must have dropped just after she entered the bridge; she noticed that they were down now. There was a gap in front of her that was quickly growing. Jessica’s pedaling ceased, while she tried to glue together a plan. She was much closer to the center of the bridge than the beginning. The large boat began to blow its horn repeatedly, hurrying her decision along. Another postcard flashed in her mind of the bridge’s gates completely vertical as a steamboat passed through. She couldn’t turn around now. Her veins released a surge of energy, the kind that wins Olympic races. She pedaled harder and harder, racing directly for the widening gap. Her thick tire licked the pavement until the pavement stopped. Her fingers tightened around her bike grips while her bike took an unexpected nosedive. Jessica was no longer aiming for the other side of the bridge; she was aiming for the boat. The railing of the boat was directly underneath her. Jessica let go of her bike. She focused on the large container of coal on top of the boat, and began to stretch towards it. If she missed the coal container, she would land just in front of the boat. Large crashes told her that the bike had hit the railing or deck of the boat. Jessica began to scream and yell, telling the boat to move faster. Her eyes widened as the edge of the container drew closer and she landed in a pile of coal. The coal was hot from hours of roasting in the sun along the journey. Gashing her knees and hands, then throwing her body along with some coal to the middle of the container. Her arm lay facing the wrong way while the coal roasted her exposed skin like a grill. Forever changing the glorious city of Genevek.