The bridge was situated among tall hedges near train tracks.
It was an hour or so away from the town and generally undisturbed.
Nobody really went there apart from the occasional dog-walker.
Even then they never went near the bridge, it used to be a popular suicide spot.
The river flowing underneath looked calm and still but the current was brutal.
Never left survivors, it dragged them down never to be seen again.
Rumour had it there was a door under the bridge and it led to treasure hidden by
the old Catholic monks during the religious upheavals.
It was a popular thing in my old school, other kids would say that so-and-so had
gone down there and been chased away by a headless monk or something.
It was good for a laugh,or a scare, depending on how it was told.
The person who told it best was my old friend Ray.
He had this way with words that made it seem like he'd been there himself, no
matter what the story was he could make your blood freeze.
I wanted him to write this but he went missing nearly nine years back and hasn't
been seen since.
Don't know why but I thought that writing this story down might help me move on.
Humans value gold more than life.
For this reason the Carthusian monks at St Bruno's monastery built that bridge for
the sole purpose of hiding their lavish possessions from the destructive hands of the
protestant majority, it was intended as a last resort but soon became their only option.
It's said that after they filled the many rooms underneath with gold and richly bound
manuscripts they placed ancient latin curses on it to ward off would-be thieves.
Of course there's no proof of that, they hid the door behind bricks and sealed it good.
Still people are drawn there,drawn to the gold without even realising it.
They find themselves hunting around the area for some indescribable thing, something
precious and near the bridge
Nobody's found the entrance yet, the monks were slaughtered and any text or map
relating to it had long since been destroyed or lost.
But that didn't stop two friends, barely teens, from stumbling upon it.
They were just mucking about near the base, drawing on the side with chalks when one
of them pushed too hard on a stone and it cracked in half.
As they began to panic about having broken such an old bridge they noticed that where the
stone had fallen was an old iron handle.
Daring each other didn't work, they were both worried.
In the end they decided to go home, grab torches and come back to pull the handle together.
They didn't tell anybody else about this, if there was treasure then they wanted to discover it.
After a while, torches in hand they returned and with bated breath they yanked down on the
old handle as hard as their small arms could.
It took several attempts before it began to creak open, dislodging several other bricks as it went.
They were met with stale air as they walked inside, torches shining all around as they began
their search for whatever treasures lay within.
The room they were in was damp all around, seems the monks hadn't accounted for the rising
water levels over the years, there was a thin layer of water on the floor that made their foot-
steps echo in the otherwise near silent area.
The next room had mould covered books, each with a dusty but golden cover, heavily decorated.
There were several shelves of this alongside an equally adorned desk.
As they went deeper into the rooms they had yet to see any actual treasure, not the way their
young minds had envisioned it at least.
No gold coins, no jewels, not even a treasure chest, just books and scrolls.
The last room they came across had a door to it which was strange as none of the others did.
Again, it took both of them their full strength to budge it gradually open enough to slip inside.
Their roaming torch beams fell upon a skeleton dressed in brown cloth, it held a rosary between
its' hands, who'd have guessed they buried one of their own down there?
They certainly wouldn't have guessed it was guarding the place.
Its' neck cracked as it lifted its' head up to meet their torch beams and its' jaw began to open.
the younger boy shoved the older one down, ran to the door and pushed it closed with all his
might, all the while his friend was shrieking inside.
After a few minutes of frantic pounding on the door his screams were cut off by a sickening
crunch
And it went silent.
The young boy ran home and told his parents what happened but when they went to the bridge
they found it had collapsed entirely.
The other boy was never found, they assumed the river had swept his body away as it did to
many others before him and many more after.
I'm so sorry Ray.
It was an hour or so away from the town and generally undisturbed.
Nobody really went there apart from the occasional dog-walker.
Even then they never went near the bridge, it used to be a popular suicide spot.
The river flowing underneath looked calm and still but the current was brutal.
Never left survivors, it dragged them down never to be seen again.
Rumour had it there was a door under the bridge and it led to treasure hidden by
the old Catholic monks during the religious upheavals.
It was a popular thing in my old school, other kids would say that so-and-so had
gone down there and been chased away by a headless monk or something.
It was good for a laugh,or a scare, depending on how it was told.
The person who told it best was my old friend Ray.
He had this way with words that made it seem like he'd been there himself, no
matter what the story was he could make your blood freeze.
I wanted him to write this but he went missing nearly nine years back and hasn't
been seen since.
Don't know why but I thought that writing this story down might help me move on.
Humans value gold more than life.
For this reason the Carthusian monks at St Bruno's monastery built that bridge for
the sole purpose of hiding their lavish possessions from the destructive hands of the
protestant majority, it was intended as a last resort but soon became their only option.
It's said that after they filled the many rooms underneath with gold and richly bound
manuscripts they placed ancient latin curses on it to ward off would-be thieves.
Of course there's no proof of that, they hid the door behind bricks and sealed it good.
Still people are drawn there,drawn to the gold without even realising it.
They find themselves hunting around the area for some indescribable thing, something
precious and near the bridge
Nobody's found the entrance yet, the monks were slaughtered and any text or map
relating to it had long since been destroyed or lost.
But that didn't stop two friends, barely teens, from stumbling upon it.
They were just mucking about near the base, drawing on the side with chalks when one
of them pushed too hard on a stone and it cracked in half.
As they began to panic about having broken such an old bridge they noticed that where the
stone had fallen was an old iron handle.
Daring each other didn't work, they were both worried.
In the end they decided to go home, grab torches and come back to pull the handle together.
They didn't tell anybody else about this, if there was treasure then they wanted to discover it.
After a while, torches in hand they returned and with bated breath they yanked down on the
old handle as hard as their small arms could.
It took several attempts before it began to creak open, dislodging several other bricks as it went.
They were met with stale air as they walked inside, torches shining all around as they began
their search for whatever treasures lay within.
The room they were in was damp all around, seems the monks hadn't accounted for the rising
water levels over the years, there was a thin layer of water on the floor that made their foot-
steps echo in the otherwise near silent area.
The next room had mould covered books, each with a dusty but golden cover, heavily decorated.
There were several shelves of this alongside an equally adorned desk.
As they went deeper into the rooms they had yet to see any actual treasure, not the way their
young minds had envisioned it at least.
No gold coins, no jewels, not even a treasure chest, just books and scrolls.
The last room they came across had a door to it which was strange as none of the others did.
Again, it took both of them their full strength to budge it gradually open enough to slip inside.
Their roaming torch beams fell upon a skeleton dressed in brown cloth, it held a rosary between
its' hands, who'd have guessed they buried one of their own down there?
They certainly wouldn't have guessed it was guarding the place.
Its' neck cracked as it lifted its' head up to meet their torch beams and its' jaw began to open.
the younger boy shoved the older one down, ran to the door and pushed it closed with all his
might, all the while his friend was shrieking inside.
After a few minutes of frantic pounding on the door his screams were cut off by a sickening
crunch
And it went silent.
The young boy ran home and told his parents what happened but when they went to the bridge
they found it had collapsed entirely.
The other boy was never found, they assumed the river had swept his body away as it did to
many others before him and many more after.
I'm so sorry Ray.
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