Use the image below to create a post on your own blog… poetry, prose, humour… light or dark, whatever you choose, by noon (GMT)  Wednesday 1st February and link back to Sue Vincent’s post  here with a pingback. Please make sure that the pingback works and if not, copy and paste your link into the comments section of this her post   on   her  page   here .

Time  no longer  meant anything  to  Guy he was  too tired  to care . The  melt  down  he had  had  at  work  yesterday  was  the  very last  straw. He  had  thrown  his  laptop  at  the  wall stuck his  finger  up  at  an astonished  team leader and  walked out of  the office. Calling  over his  shoulder  any  problems in  the  States  don’t  bother to call me.

He had  got into  his  car and  driven  home ( he  still  felt  the huge  house in  the  county  where  his parents  lived  as  home . )  They  were  delighted  to  see  him,  they  always  were, he decided  not  to tell  them  how  he  felt just  yet. That  could   wait, he needed  rest.

Later  that  night  when  everyone  had  gone  to bed  he  sat  in his favourite  spot in  the  house. It  was in a  small alcove in  the  hall by  the  grandfather clock. As  a child  he had  hidden here  many times, it  was always  cosy  as  the  fire in  the  nearby  fireplace  was  never  allowed  to  go out.  The  view  was then  as it  was now  magical. The oldest  stair  case  in the  house in view  with  the  Black suit of armour  peeping  out  from behind  the  curve  of  the stairs.

Continue reading here: Waiting