The Rope Bridge
There's a rope bridge over a gaping chasm. This bridge has stood for years and nobody thinks it will ever break.
They cross it every day, trusting it to support them, the way it has done for the last decade and a half. It's never going to break; this bridge.
There's always one, isn't there? There's always one who runs across, screaming and leaping, bragging to their friends about how this bridge is safe, it will never let you drop. They invite their friends on, and soon they're running and jumping and screaming, although not as loud as the first.
And still the bridge stands. It supports so many people across the chasm. No-one notices the boards starting to rot and the ropes beginning to fray.
There's another bridge, further down. It's big and flash and a bit older than the rope bridge. Maybe that bridge was like this bridge, once, long ago.
There's another one who sometimes comes along, with a hammer and nails. He might fix the occasional broken board, and the bridge will stand a bit longer.
But on the flipside, there's one who comes along in broad daylight, but when no-one else is around. He cuts the ropes and shatters the boards, leaves the bridge groaning, barely able to cling onto both sides of the chasm. But cling on it does, else what will help the others cross the gap?
Occasionally, very occasionally, someone comes along, looks at the frayed ropes and broken boards and shouts out, trying to get all the others off, but they don't listen. Not for long anyway. This person tried to help; it didn't work, but they did their best. Not many do this. They just cross.
A gust of wind blows; it's a strong gust. The other bridge doesn't flinch but the rope one swings and rocks. Everyone clings on, relying on the bridge to save them, and it does but the ropes are frayed worse than ever. Nobody can hear it screaming.
Then one day the unthinkable happens.
The bridge breaks.
No-one is hurt but they turn to each other, asking what happened, what went wrong.
And the bridge lies shattered in the chaotic mess far below, waiting for someone to come along and put it back together.
But one can't help but wonder; what will be noticed first?
The frayed and broken ropes, still hanging from the sides of the chasm?
Or the absence of a bridge.
