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Bridge House — Lee Crosby
Would Love be enough?
Could a woman's faith and trust unlock the terrible secret of
Bridge House
His name was Winthrop Carlton and he revered old things. He wanted everything kept as it once was, even the frighteningly eerie suspension bridge leading to the great house.
Her name was Joan Vickers, a young, beautiful, innocent girl who periodically visited Bridge House.
In a strange way their lives became intertwined, irrevocably bound, and they affected the very existence of two others: Leila and Dan, both of whom had a great deal to live for-and die for.
But how does a bridge deliver death...
Joan Vickers had to get away from Bridge House and the unknown terror it held for her. She walked steadily over the wood planks of the small suspension bridge which would lead her to freedom from her fears. Yet the bridge suddenly curved up against her feet, as if someone else had stepped onto it. She stood still, and felt the bridge shift against someone uneven pace.
Joan gasped with a hot choke in her throat. She took another step cautiously. Instantly the bridge throbbed with running feet and something heavy crashed close to her, with a shock of noise. The bridge humped over her and she was against the rail and half over it into the murky water. This is how Winthrop was killed, she thought with horror.
Could a woman's faith and trust unlock the terrible secret of
Bridge House
His name was Winthrop Carlton and he revered old things. He wanted everything kept as it once was, even the frighteningly eerie suspension bridge leading to the great house.
Her name was Joan Vickers, a young, beautiful, innocent girl who periodically visited Bridge House.
In a strange way their lives became intertwined, irrevocably bound, and they affected the very existence of two others: Leila and Dan, both of whom had a great deal to live for-and die for.
But how does a bridge deliver death...
Joan Vickers had to get away from Bridge House and the unknown terror it held for her. She walked steadily over the wood planks of the small suspension bridge which would lead her to freedom from her fears. Yet the bridge suddenly curved up against her feet, as if someone else had stepped onto it. She stood still, and felt the bridge shift against someone uneven pace.
Joan gasped with a hot choke in her throat. She took another step cautiously. Instantly the bridge throbbed with running feet and something heavy crashed close to her, with a shock of noise. The bridge humped over her and she was against the rail and half over it into the murky water. This is how Winthrop was killed, she thought with horror.