"

You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.-

Thomas Moore.

Katrina stared into the back of the driver's seat with a weird look on her face. The back of his head was more like it as the man slowly drove her away from the Rosilian manor. She would miss it, the view and everything in it. She would miss the flowers, the scents of the valley that the cold mountain breeze always brought in, the little brook at the bottom of the valley, and the roses that gave the estate its name. She would miss all of it and most of all, she would miss her grandmother and her mum Alice, even her dad despite being the main reason that was behind her leaving.

"Where are you taking me, Arnold?" she thought as she observed how confident her new driver was and also, very well built for a man who was supposed to be in his late seventies. However, sh

"

If the rose puzzled its mind over the question of how it grew, it would not have been the miracle that it is. " -

J. B. Yeats

Katrina walked into her room and kicked off her shoes. They were not that high but they had exhausted her nonetheless. She debated on first taking a bath or not but her curiosity prevailed and in the end, she ended up sitting down with the white envelope in her hands. As she propped her back against the chaise's white backrest, Katrina tore the blank envelope wide open. As expected several sheets of paper fell out and a heavy metal piece which on closer examination she found to be a key.

"An the mystery continues..." the woman mumbled, opening the folded bits of paper to read the contents that were within it.

Dearest Amanda,

Katrina frowned. That was not her name but was rather the same name that she had found on that title deed. However, she decided to re

"

From the thorn bush comes forth the rose." -

Old Jewish Proverb

The Crayon community hall was not as big as the main sanctuary. However, it was quite spacious. Where the walls of the great church were painted a light brown, a soft yellow grazed its walls and instead of the dark wooden pews that filled the former room, singular seats occupied this space with the occasional triangle table standing out from among their masses. The windows, however, remained huge and wide but they were not stained and where an altar had graced the front of the main sanctuary, this one had a podium that was completely bare except for a little pulpit that was stashed away on one of its corners.

Apart from that, this room was filled with people, young people that is. They were scattered all over the room as they chatted away with their friends, sipping away at their cups of tea, while the rest of them con

"

You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.-

Thomas Moore.

Katrina stared into the back of the driver's seat with a weird look on her face. The back of his head was more like it as the man slowly drove her away from the Rosilian manor. She would miss it, the view and everything in it. She would miss the flowers, the scents of the valley that the cold mountain breeze always brought in, the little brook at the bottom of the valley, and the roses that gave the estate its name. She would miss all of it and most of all, she would miss her grandmother and her mum Alice, even her dad despite being the main reason that was behind her leaving.

"Where are you taking me, Arnold?" she thought as she observed how confident her new driver was and also, very well built for a man who was supposed to be in his late seventies. However, she did not dare to voice her thoughts aloud and not because she feared him but rather because she was

Chapter 8