Descriptions on the Spot: Bounty Photo #1

Special thanks to @thebluepanda for providing this fantastic photo of a bridge in Vicenza, Italy. This is going to be my first new post for the ongoing #descriptionsonthespot that includes photos and art as well as words. Enjoy the story and let me know what you think in the comments section!

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It was a supremely beautiful day. Azure sky peeked out from between fluffy, white clouds, blown about by a gentle breeze. The river flowed lazily beneath the old stone bridge, flanked on either side by the greenest banks he'd ever seen. It brought a smile to his face. This is exactly why I came to visit Itay, he thought, leaning against the stone railing of the old bridge and turning his eyes to the plaster walls and terra cotta roofing of the houses lining the river.

It was Saturday, so many people were recovering from the work of the week. Not that you'd need to recover in a place like this, he thought. Living in Vicenza must be like living in some kind of dream. He'd originally wanted to backpack across Europe after he'd finished his bachelor's degree, but, being short on funds, he had decided just to make his way through Italy. He hadn't been disappointed. He'd begun his trip in Naples, made his way up to Rome, continued his trip along the E35 to Florence before making his way to Bologna and being faced with the choice of heading east or west. Despite a desire to visit Milan and enjoy the rich history of one of Italy's most important and powerful cities, he'd instead decided to head east, toward Venice. He reasoned that, despite not being too terribly found of a city founded on canals, it would be worth it to see the Piazza San Marco and the Grand Canal. Besides, once he saw it, he wouldn't have to go back again if he really didn't want to, right?

He turned to look to his left, watching people going about their lives on this glorious day. The gelato shop he'd stopped at yesterday when he'd come into town was semi-full, and a young couple were arguing over something very animatedly at a table in front of the store. That reminded him of the way he and his ex-girlfriend used to bicker about things. Nerdy things, especially. Let's face it, Kirk would have been no match for Han, no matter how good-looking Chris Pine is, he mused. Something tugged at him to look back the other way, but he ignored it. Pistachio gelato sounded fantastic right now, and he had a few spare Euro today, so he could indulge himself. He went to lean off the railing, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"You know you can't go that way, Thomas," came a voice from beside him, a lovely, soft voice belonging to what he surmised was an equally lovely woman. He turned and looked. Sure enough, the voice belonged to an elegant woman, no older than he was, with fine ebony hair that was tucked back behind pale ears and cascaded down the back of her equally fine black dress. Her features were regal, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and stunning violet eyes. A graceful neck curved down into slender shoulders that held the straps of her shimmering dress, which provided a glimpse of an ample, equally pale bosom below the bounds of the v-cut in the front. He found himself wondering how he hadn't noticed this stunning, nubile woman before. Had she just walked up beside him?

"What do you mean I can't? It's just over there and-" he started, but she shook her head slowly. Her expression belied something unsettling, but he couldn't think of what it could be. The hand on his shoulder sent a chill through him, though, and he began to wonder why she was here. His discomfort increased as he heard the faint din of an ambulance siren, making its way towards them.

He turned away from her then, looking behind where he'd been standing and taking note of the small crowd that had gathered there on the bridge for the first time. How'd I miss all these people? Italians are nothing if not loud, he thought, before he froze in place. He couldn't believe what he saw. There, in the middle of the crowd, lying on the ground, was...him. Something was wrong though. His head was turned at a weird angle, and red had begun to pull underneath his head, weaving its way in between the cobblestones of the bridge. His eyes were half-open, but they didn't move. They were empty, staring vacantly up at the sky.

He became dimly aware of what had happened mere moments ago. There was a rider, on a bicycle. He'd been walking across the bridge to get gelato, like he'd said he would yesterday. Maybe he hadn't been paying attention, or maybe it was the rider's fault. He'd felt a sharp pain at his side and the world had spun around, then there had been something else. A blinding pain, like the worst headache imaginable all in a fraction of a second, and then...

"No. No no, I'm standing right here. That's can't be me," he said, spinning back to look at the woman. "I'm standing right here. So I can't. I...I can't be," he stammered. She simply held her hand out, quietly, waiting for him to take it. He recoiled in horror, staring at her with an expression halfway between shock and rage. I'm not! I know I'm not, he screamed in his mind. Despite his own protestations, her outstretched hand nagged at him. Deep down, he couldn't help feeling she was right.

"It's alright, Thomas. There's no reason to be afraid," she said gently, leaving her hand out to him. He grit his teeth together and clenched his hands into fists, feeling tears burning in the corners of his eyes. What about his plans for life? Now he wished he'd never wasted time coming to visit Italy. He could have been back home, doing something useful, living. Yes, he could have been back home, alive. As the ambulance arrived and the medics hopped out to assess the body on the ground, he was slowly resigning himself to his fate. He couldn't even hold onto his anger anymore. It dissipated away, leaving him like the heat was leaving his body. Letting out a sigh, he looked back to the woman, staring into her violet eyes with those of an uneasy child at his first day of school.

"What...what happens now?" She smiled, faintly, and turned her palm slightly so that it was parallel to the ground. Thomas looked down at her hand, back to her, then finally back to the outstretched hand. There's nothing left here for me now, he thought. Without another word of objection, he took Death's hand, and followed her away.