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