A single key hung from the ceiling The room filled with the colours of a rainbow The church had been derelict for years I was transported by a single thought Suspicion rose like a frozen hand at my back The mediums could be right about the curse on this old sacred place No time to elaborate now I shuffle forward the small distance towards the altar Remembering the key above my head After making the sign of the cross I climbed on to the altar, snatching the key Now all I needed was the keyhole To find the treasure hidden in Rosslyn Chapel My search continues, no keyhole as yet I am not the kind to give up I will find the book of St, Germaine… To be continued ©AnitaDawes2022
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