Shutter ❋ Joe Sugg AU

Prologue

Amelia ventured out into the wintery London air on a Tuesday with one goal - she would walk to the bridge this time. This time she wouldn't be distracted by a boutique coffee shop, or a homeless man asking for money, or even a drastic change in the weather. If it rained, so be it - she would simply tuck her camera under her coat. She looked both ways down the street before crossing the road, because she knew that cars had a tendency to appear out of nowhere. The Yorkshire roads were definitely a far cry from the bustling tarmac of the inner city, where nobody stopped for anybody and there didn't seem to be a moment of tranquility.

When she got to the other side she began to walk. If someone asked her for directions to the park, she would have drawn a complete blank. However when she actually walked there herself she had authority in her footsteps, she knew which corners to turn, which streets to cross, and to the outside world she looked like a perfectly street-smart city girl.

She felt the weight of her camera thumping on her chest as she walked, and her backpack containing a packed lunch and film rolls was perched firmly on her shoulders. She inhaled the intoxicating scent of city life, with all it's busy-ness and fastness and completely unrivalled sense of freedom.

It usually took her 45 minutes or so to arrive at the fringes of the gigantic park that she did not yet know the name of. She only knew that the green grass seemed to stretch on forever, and that the oak trees made her feel like a child again. On the rare occasions when it was sunny, Amelia would often lie on that soft grass and stare at the blue sky, sometimes taking photos of clouds that reminded her of an animal or an object.

On that Tuesday she arrived in good time - she'd only stopped once during her entire walk, and when she felt the springy grass beneath her feet she smiled. Her heartbeat was thrumming at a steady rhythm, the muscles in her legs were buzzing from the walk and her cheeks were red from the chilly breeze that floated through the city.

At that stage the bridge was nowhere to be seen - but she knew it was here somewhere. A few weeks back she had caught a glimpse of it, almost like a mirage in the distance. It could only be seen when one ventured further than usual into the large park - that was probably why she never saw it during her first few visits. On that particular day she only had a mild curiosity for the distant bridge that appeared to run over a stream, and she also lacked the ambition to walk over miles of park land to reach it.

Okay, perhaps she was exaggerating about the 'miles of parkland' thing. It was probably only a 5 minute walk across the fields.

But today she had a goal. She was going to walk to that god damn bridge even if it killed her.

After a good few minutes of sitting beneath an oak tree with her packed lunch, she finally stood up from the slightly damp grass and began her quest to find the bridge. She remembered vaguely that it was shrouded by a cluster of oak trees, so that it was almost inside a 'secret glade'. She walked over the necessary pathways and past a children's playground before her destination appeared in the distance.

She didn't let the ache of her legs intimidate her, nor did she look at the inevitable walk through slightly wet grass. She set off across the fields without a moments hesitation.

The further she walked, the more detailed her view of the bridge became. It was indeed curving over a small bubbling stream that probably led to a lake somewhere, and shielding it from the sun were a multitude of trees. Perhaps on a sunny day the little glade would look even more inviting, but even now with the overcast sky she felt a burst of awe blossom inside her. With each step forwards it felt as if she was leaving the city behind her and returning to the rustic charm of York countryside.