Olive knows who she is: a college dropout with an absent father and a disapproving mother.
She knows what she wants: to prove her mother wrong, show her that she can both follow her dreams of becoming a photographer and be successful.
But everythi...
The wind whipped Olive's hair into a tangled mess, numbing her fingers even inside their thick gloves as she strolled along the bridge, high above the dark waters below. Sometimes, under the grey sky of Belborough, she wished for the excitement and adventure that she found in the tattered paperbacks in the library, and the comfort that they had once offered.
Once.
But she wasn't a child anymore. Nineteen was more than old enough to begin behaving like an adult, as her mother had proclaimed over breakfast. After all, if Olive wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps and take over her insanely successful company, she would have to start showing some more responsibility and get her head out of the clouds.
Shoving her hands deep into her pockets, Olive shivered as another gust of icy wind lashed the bridge, dragging strands of dark hair across her face. This bridge had been a source of refuge for her since her childhood— although it had seen better days. When she'd last come here, the boards had been firm and sturdy, not rotting and damp as they were now.
She raised her face to the gray sky, watching as dark clouds rolled past. The last time Belborough had seen weather like this, the very bridge she was standing on had been torn apart. It would never have been described as safe, with its thin walkway that swayed at even the thought of wind; however, its condition worsened tenfold during the rainy season.
Her mother could deny it all she wanted to, but Olive knew that she had been devastated when her only child had dropped out of college and decided to pursue a freelance career— in photography, of all things. All she would talk about now was business, business, business, and how it had 'changed her life for the better.'
Olive, yet again, had delayed the inevitable by storming out of the house, yelling to no one in particular about unrealistic expectations and making her own choices.
Olive pulled her scarf higher over her face as the wind howled louder. The bridge swayed slightly, and her stomach lurched along with it. She grabbed onto the railing, her gloved fingers slippery against the dew-soaked metal.
She didn't need any reminders about how successful her mother was, and how dreary and grey she was in comparison. How her mother started out selling ragged handmade toys on the curb, and went from there to become the founder of the most successful business in the world - Astria Industries. They sold a variety of things - books, telling of witches and mermaids and all sorts of things - toys, of queens and kings and warriors - paintings, of battles and countrysides and castles.
She could do that too, if she wanted.
If only she applied herself.
You need to apply yourself, Olive—
Wait— what was that? She leaned forward, out over the water, a frown creasing her brow. Under the surface of the river, there was some sort of . . . light. It was pulsing, gradually going from a dim glow to a bright gleam and back again.
She rose onto her toes, bending over the railing in an attempt to see better. Someone might have dropped their phone into the water, or maybe a flashlight—
The bridge rocked forcefully, and Olive's grasp on the railing loosened.
Her feet skidded out from beneath her. Another shake of the narrow, rickety bridge completely knocked her off and sent her plummeting towards the water.
The water was icy cold. Every inch of Olive's skin tingled with the beginnings of hypothermia. She struggled towards the surface, hands clawing at nothing, but her thick winter clothes— just moments ago, so warm and comforting— dragged her down with their water soaked weight.
Her lungs started to burn. Desperate, Olive kicked off her boots and shrugged out of her coat, but her scarf— her lovely, hand knitted scarf from the days her father used to live with them— had wrapped tightly around her nose and mouth, quite successfully blocking off any air.
The water swirled all around her, dark and cold and unforgiving. Her vision narrowed to a small pinprick of light, until that too was gone.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hey there!
I just wanted to say thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! If you liked it, a quick vote would be appreciated.
If you've been around long enough to read the first version of Astria, hopefully you like the edits I've made.
