Episode Notes
Cry Baby Bridge by Rob Fields
A young group of friends want to test the legend of their own "Cry Baby Bridge" but things may be more real than they could ever imagine...
Pre-order our new book! only at UncleHenny.com
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
Get Cool Merchandise http://store.weeklyspooky
Support us on Patreon http://patreon.com/IncrediblyHandsome
Contact Us/Submit a Story
twitter.com/WeeklySpooky
facebook.com/WeeklySpooky
WeeklySpooky@gmail.com
This episode sponsored by HenFlix.com
For everything else visit WeeklySpooky.com
Transcription:
The boys suddenly awoke when they heard the loud noise off in the distance. One of them turned on the battery-powered lantern. The three of them yawned and slowly sat up inside the tent where they were sleeping. 
“Aw, man . . . ! You better not have farted again, Chunker,” the boy with the crewcut on the right side of the tent groaned. 
“I didn’t, dude,” the husky boy on the left side muttered. 
The skinny boy in the middle put his glasses on. “Trust me, if Chunker would have let one go, we’d have known it. We’re all in this tent, right?” 
The right boy pushed the middle one a little. “Why you gotta be such a nerd, Horton?”
Horton looked to his right. “I’m just saying, Chapman. Chunker would have cleared us out of this tent.”
Chunker had a mischievous grin. “What, you mean like this?” He sat up a little bit. BBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!
Chapman and Horton quickly fumbled over one another trying to escape from the tent as Chunker sat there and laughed. As soon as the two boys were out and on their feet, Horton turned and pointed to the tent. “Chunker, you sick pig!”
Chunker was still laughing as he crawled out of the tent. Then he stood with his two friends. 
Horton sighed. “Great! Now what are we going to do? Chunker just fumigated the tent.”
Chapman slapped Chunker’s arm. “C’mon, man, you can at least open up the tent and air it out. Geez!”
Chunker raised his hands. “Okay, okay . . .”
As Chunker lifted and tied up the flaps to the tent entrance, Horton was getting the campfire going again. 
“Any idea what time it is?” Chapman asked. 
Chunker had his smartphone on him. “It’s almost four – in the morning!”
Suddenly, the boys were startled when they heard the original sound that work them up in the first place. 
“Aw, man!” Chunker complained. “Really? An owl?”
Chapman groaned. “Well, some stupid owl woke us up, and Chunker ripped inside the tent. What are we gonna do now?”
“Hey, maybe we can sit around the fire and tell more ghost stories,” Horton suggested. “Like we did last night.”
“Sounds good,” Chapman said. 
“Yeah, why not?” Chunker agreed. 
The other boys joined Horton, who began first by telling the urban legend of the Gang High Beam Initiation. When he finished, he stressed that, “It actually happened on the other side of Strickfield, over along Township Road 113.”
Chapman spoke up. “Yeah? Well, I heard a story about this college couple that got murdered in an apartment just near the college.” He told the story as best as he could recall hearing it. Then he finished by saying, “It was said that the roommate came back the next morning and found their bodies, he also found this message on the wall – written in blood! It said, JUST BE GLAD YOU DIDN’T TURN ON THE LIGHT!!!! That part never made the newspapers, by the way.”
“Geez, Chapman, that does sound pretty scary,” Horton said. Then he turned to the other boy. “How about you, Chunker? You got a story?”
Chunker opened the cooler they had brought with them and took out a soda. He cracked it open and took a drink. “Yeah, I got one.” He nodded in the direction of the deserted road they were camping off of. “It’s actually not too far from here, the old Cry Baby Bridge.”
He told the story about how just after the American Civil War, Abigail Tomlin, a poor woman, and her fiancé, Alvin, a rich lord Abigail had been promised to, had been fighting all through their courtship. Prior to their wedding night, when they had had their last fight, Abigail had taken their baby boy, Arthur, and fled. Alvin’s carriage had caught up to Abigail’s as it was nearing the outskirts of Strickfield. 
As Abigail got out of her carriage, Alvin drew his gun and shot at Abigail. She moved, but ended up taking the bullet in her shoulder. She was bleeding all over her wedding dress fast. She knew she couldn’t let Alvin have Arthur. Unbeknownst to Alvin, Abigail also had a gun. She took aim and shot Alvin, wounding him also. 
Abigail took the baby out of the damaged carriage and fled. She was in a great deal of pain from the bullet. She could hear Alvin screaming for her, that he would finish her and take their son back. Abigail couldn’t keep the crying Arthur quiet and knew Alvin would soon be on them. 
By the time Alvin had caught up to his runaway bride, she had reached a metal bridge that spanned the Castalia River. The water below was high and rushing. All little Arthur could do was cry and cry. 
Abigail took a last stand against Alvin and tried to shoot him, but Alvin was faster and shot her first. Abigail was mortally wounded now as she moved to the center of the bridge. She still had both Arthur and her gun. Alvin raised his gun and demanded Abigail give Arthur back. When she wouldn’t, he shot her one last time. Abigail fell over the side of the bridge and into the raging river – with baby Arthur still cradled in her arms! Both she and the baby disappeared down the river. 
A search was conducted by the authorities of many neighboring towns and villages. The bodies of neither Abigail Tomlin nor Arthur were ever found. 
“Now . . . if you go near that same bridge . . . the one over on Indian Hollow Road – this road . . .” Chunker looked from Horton to Chapman and back again. “Just wait a while . . . You just might hear the sounds of little baby Arthur Tomlin crying and crying. That’s why it’s called the Cry Baby Bridge by the people who have told the story over the years.”
Chapman had his arms folded in front of him. “You really expect us to believe that, Chunker?”
Chunker raised both of his hands. “Hey! I’m just telling you the way my dad told my older brother Kenny and me.” He raised his finger. “He also said that anyone who hears the crying baby ends up dying before morning. That’s why no one really drives down this road at night.”
Chapman wasn’t convinced. “Oh, yeah? How?”
Chunker shrugged. “Dad said no one really knows for sure. He said no one lives long enough to say what happens.”
Chapman shook his head slowly. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into sleeping out here after we just finished sixth grade.”
“Hey! We could go and check it out,” Horton suggested. “Chunker did say that bridge isn’t too far from here, right?”
Chunker pointed south. “The Cry Baby Bridge is less than a mile from here.”
Chapman considered it. Then he clapped his hands once. “Okay . . . Fine, let’s go check it out.”
The three friends got up and made their way to the one-lane gravel road. The moon was full and helped give them light as they made their way along. Soon they saw the bridge just ahead. 
“What are you looking up on your phone, Chunker?” Chapman asked. 
“Nothing . . . just checking something.”
Chapman pointed to the bridge. “We’re here.”  
“Man, the bridge looks just like it did all those years ago,” Chunker said. “Just like in this picture.”
The three of them looked on Chunker’s smartphone at the old black-and-white picture of the bridge taken after it was completed. The only real difference between then and now was that the bridge in the real world was rust-colored. Chunker put the phone away, and the three of them looked ahead to the bridge. 
After looking at it for a long moment, the boys walked to the bridge. When they reached the edge of it, they stopped. None of them said anything. Finally, Horton got bold and stepped onto the bridge. Chapman wanted to protest, but then he saw Chunker was stepping onto it. Chapman groaned and followed Chunker. 
They reached the center of the bridge. Horton moved to the side and looked down at the water. “It doesn’t look so raging now, like you said in your story, Chunker.”
“It does when it storms for a while,” Chunker said. 
The three of them just stood there and waited. 
“I don’t hear anything,” Chapman said. 
They continued to stand there. Soon, they thought they heard something. It started out softly at first. It sounded like . . . baby cries. The cries sounded innocently enough. Then they started to become louder and more frightening. The three friends looked at one another in fear. 
Suddenly, a figure appeared from behind them and grabbed hold of both Horton’s and Chapman’s shoulders as it screamed loudly! The three of them turned to see the figure was dressed in black and had a glowing white skull in place of its face. 
Horton and Chapman screamed before they turned and run. They quickly noticed that Chunker wasn’t with them. They turned around and saw both the figure and Chunker pointing at them and laughing hysterically. 
Chapman raised his arms outward. “What the heck is this?!”
“Kenny? Is that you?” Horton asked. 
The figure removed the glowing mask. Kenny Chunk turned to his younger brother and slapped a high-five with him. “We got’em, little bro. I knew after Dad told us the story, we could scare people with it.”
“Yeah, it sure worked,” Chunker agreed. “Just like you said it would. Those owl hoots were a nice touch, too.”
Chunker explained that he was awake in the tent. He and Kenny were texting each other and came up with the idea on how to scare Horton and Chapman with the local urban legend of the Cry Baby Bridge. 
“Okay, Kenny, so how did you get the baby crying to happen, then?” Chapman demanded. 
Kenny motioned for them to come with him. They walked off the bridge and made their way down to the water. Sure enough, there was a big speaker attacked to the side of the bridge. Kenny raised his smartphone.