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    The Blessings Bridge: Enchantment Avenue
    The Blessings Bridge: Enchantment Avenue
    The Blessings Bridge: Enchantment Avenue
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    The Blessings Bridge: Enchantment Avenue

    By Chrissy Wissler

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Any Normal person thinks magic a myth. Anyone worth knowing, knows differently. Magic wanted and it took. Free pizza delivery, free Wi-Fi, freewill.

    All of it, fair game.

    Blessa of the Blessings Bridge made sure all her landing platforms, from the golden arches to the inter-dimensional voids, remained clear of seaweed and seagull shit. An important job, really. Essential, even.

    Too bad she hated it.

    "The Blessings Bridge" will transport you to living, breathing world where magic resides alongside freeways, fishing piers, and funnel cakes. A world you never knew about, but always knew existed... right outside your backdoor.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBlue Cedar Publishing
    Release dateSep 19, 2017
    ISBN9781386626152
    The Blessings Bridge: Enchantment Avenue
    Author

    Chrissy Wissler

    Chrissy’s short fiction has appeared in the anthologies: Fiction River: Risk-Takers, Fiction River Presents: Legacies, Fiction River Presents: Readers' Choice, Deep Magic, and When Dreams Come True (writing as Christen Anne Kelley). She writes fantasy and science fiction, as well as a softball, contemporary series for both romance and young adult (Little League Series and Home Run). Before turning to fiction, Chrissy also wrote many nonfiction articles for publications such as Montana Outdoors, Women in the Outdoors, and Jakes Magazine. In 2009, Inside Kung Fu magazine awarded her with their ‘Writer of the Year’ award. Follow her blog on being a parent-writer at Parents and Prose.

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      Book preview

      The Blessings Bridge - Chrissy Wissler

      1

      Wooden planks, riddled with pockmarks ranging from pipe-sized small sizzles to the really big, black-smeared scorches, were laid down next to each other, each one slapped down as if the builder hadn’t exactly cared where they landed and sealed them just like that. A few nails too. After all, this wooden bit of structure did arch on out over the rolling, temperamental Pacific Ocean before swinging back onto land. Or up into the clouds or down below and right into the ocean…depending on your chosen method of transportation, of course. So a few token safety precautions were understandable. Expected, even. But really, what did you need nails or steel support beams or duct tape for when you had magic ?

      Magic. Right. The prickly, persnickety kind.

      The kind that didn’t care about free will or free pizza delivery. It wanted and it took. And if you were like Blessa, unlucky enough to be one of the chosen bridge walkers, then you ranked right alongside the colonies of barnacles and clams clinging to the Blessings Bridge’s backside. (At least they had a choice, as much as it was, anyway. They could always dislodge and go find themselves a new bridge. Or the belly of a seagull. But hey, it was still a choice.)

      You see, everyone had their place. From the heaps of rotting-brown seaweed (complete with ever-present, fist-sized black flies) that lodged themselves onto the railings along the ocean-level-landings, to, well, her. They each had their role.

      Didn’t like it? Too bad.

      Blessa was no exception.

      After all, a bridge walker was needed because, heaven forbid, you wouldn’t want the whole thing sliding away right into that turning, churning ocean below you (and no, you could forget seeing the bottom; this wasn’t one of those kinds of oceans). Not to mention earthquakes. Tidal waves too. Even giant house fires that hopped over a couple of streets, dipped into a secret underground tunnel, and for real giggles, skipped over the oh-so-important Enchantment Avenue bunch-of-jerks and landed smack-dab on the bridge instead.

      You name it, and that was her job.

      To monitor and report, anyway.

      Never prevent.

      She didn’t have that kind of magic because that would, you know, actually make her job cool. Actually worth doing.

      Blessa stomped two steps onto that walkway, worn sneakers already soaked to her hot-pink shoelaces (which were already fading to a more orange color, thanks a lot, sea-sprayed salt). Her jeans weren’t better off. She’d already gotten a good dose of sea spray the second she’d gotten here with the chilly dawn. Oh, and her hair was a tangled mess of brown. Not that her appearance mattered. Not that anyone ever saw her.

      And, like always, she was alone.

      No other bystanders or strollers were out yet. Even the legion of Albatrosses who had early morning flight-and-recovery meetings at the local coffee shop, Witch’s Brew, hadn’t arrived. Not even the Normal folk who liked doing strange things with fishing lines and wiggly worm bait and buckets of seawater (even though they never actually caught anything). It was just her and the twisting bridge.

      Mostly.

      A high-pitched, whirring scream from a giant passenger airplane broke through the darkness above her, where one or two stars still managed to hold on to the very fast slipping away night.

      Could always depend on those Normals descending and ascending into the nearby LAX airport. Any time. All the time. Sometimes there was even a nice whistling hum that seemed to follow her steps first thing in the morning, as if there were actually someone like her, up at this godforsaken hour, walking along beside her. There wasn’t, of course, but it was nice to pretend.

      Nice, in the same way those airplanes were nice.

      They reminded her she wasn’t totally alone, out here trudging along with her magic and a calling she never wanted.

      Another tearing screeched from up above. Landing brakes coming down, most likely, and it made her smile.

      There was at least one those uppity elites living in Enchantment Avenue who’d just flung aside his feather-perfect blankets and cursed the Normals for all they were worth. And most likely after the ineffectual cursing, stomped right downstairs and turned on his electricity-powered coffeemaker and the coffee he’d picked up from Starbucks or Peet’s or even Stumptown.

      No matter how much magic or energy or silly incantations to missing gods (and some not-so-missing) those ruling uppity-elites at Enchantment Avenue threw at those airplanes (and even the airport itself), nothing could block out that noise. They were, after all, right-smack-dab in the middle of one of the biggest Normal cities on the West Coast and, believe it or not, there was actually a price to pay for that. Who would have thought?!

      Seriously.

      As if you could just mooch electricity, Starbucks, and high-speed Wi-Fi for free.

      Idiots.

      And, oh boy, did Blessa know the cost of magic. Didn’t matter that she hadn’t been the one who’d screwed up, or who’d made the deal with the builder to be an oh-so-important walker in the first place. Nope. What she wanted didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was here and she was stuck and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

      Except, go eat breakfast.

      The wind shifted directions, just

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