It is Thursday again and Time for Sue Vincent’s 
Thursday photo prompt #writephoto : Waiting
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.
Guy found himself crying, silly sod, he thought way are you crying. It was the job, good and as well paid as it was it did not warrant the pressure it put him under. No they would have to do without him for a while and if they couldn’t then so be it they could bin him off.
Wiping his eyes he thought back to when he was a child and the game he had played . He would put the black helmet under his arm ( it was far too big for him in those days) Then he would creep up the stairs. He thought for a second concentrating on his memory. Slowly it came back to him there was a beautiful woman at the top of the stairs. She had always told him that she would wait for him . One day he would return to her as a man, a knight in shining armour.
Crazy, he smiled to himself , everyone had played along saying it must be Lady Olivivia. She had been betrothed to Sir Guy. He had been killed in the Crusades his armour had been brought home by his Squire and had ever since stood were it was to this day. Poor Oliviva had died within weeks of the Armour returning. In the room at the top of the stairs and all through the ages between then and now she had been up there waiting for the return of her love Sir Guy.
Guy sat quietly remembering the lady he was sure he had met on more than one occasion in his childhood, he remembered how beautiful and how kind she was to him. Suddenly he new what to do… he went across to the suit of armour and put it on ..to his his surprise it fitted him like a glove. Carefully he climbed the stairs, as he reached the room at the top of the stairs it was as he remembered it. Warm and cosy and there in the chair by the window sat Lady Olivivia. Guy she said with a smile, the soft candle light highlighted her beauty…. at last my waiting is over. As she stood to greet him he knew that here with her is where he had always yearned to be.
In the morning Guy’s parents found him dead in th alcove opposite the ancient stair case . The verdict was suicide but the truth is that Guy and Olivivia lived happily ever after.
willowdot21 
