Thursday photo prompt #writephoto : Waiting

 

It  is  Thursday  again  and  Time  for  Sue Vincent’s  wp-1473955915710.jpg

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 .

waiting

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.

detail-woman-weaving-john-williams-waterhouse1

 

 

 

JusJoJan: Delivery

Why  can’t I explain how I feel

I am so bloody bored it’s not real.

I should of gone to the gym

But there was a parcel arriving  so I had to stay in!

I asked the neighbours  if they were going out first thing

Unfortunately they were so I had to miss the gym.

I hoped the delivery might come early enough for me to have a walk

But it is three fifteen , no show  another hour up to chalk.

Time is dragging on, leaving a streaky trail, the light is beginning to fade

I want a walk  but it is really  time for dinner to be made!

Aha! at last the doorbell rings the parcel is at last here.

Shall I make dinner or go for a walk, my head to clear.

Why am I in such a grumpy mood

Even when nice thing happen my fears intrude.

The parcel was a present to me

But it had trapped me in and I feel weird you see.

Right my life is just up to me and I must sort it out

First I need a walk because my head is busting and I need to shout.

Then when I return I shall have to cook the meal

Put on some makeup take a pill, practice my smile and lie about how I feel.

We all know this feeling , I am not alone,  so, get on and get real.

Follow me on Twitter

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Follow Us

Hot Dogs and Marmalade

Salty like hot dogs (and tears). Sweet like marmalade (and life).

Two on a Rant

Rants, humor, sarcasm, and a haiku-like substance? It's hard to know what's going to come out of our minds next.

Ivor.Plumber/Poet

An Old Plumber, An Ex-Carer, An Amateur Poet, Words From The Heart

Trent's World (the Blog)

Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald

Marsha Ingrao - Always Write

Having fun, while encouraging, and promoting bloggers

Caramel

Learner at Love

Chel Owens

A Wife, My Verse, and Every Little Thing

Sacred SoulSongs

Sacred Paths and Detours

Mr. Ohh!'s Sideways View

For those of you who aren't me...and I've noticed a surprisingly large number of people who aren't.

The Small Dog

Life from the Tail End

USUAL MUTTWITS

DOG TAILS by ZoZo and Jools

kimbladeswriting

poetry and short stories

Ben Naga

Gifts from the Musey Lady and Me. "Laissez-moi vous raconter ma vraie histoire."

About the Jez of It

Poetry, stories and strange odds and ends from the desk of a writer

The Sound of One Hand Typing

Music, Musings, Memoir, and Madness

"LIFE" ( You like it, I love it! )

"LOVE"-Keeping it real, and keeping it simple!

Our Eyes Open

Come along on an adventure with us!

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

Diary of a Dublin Housewife

J-Dubs Grin and Bear It

As Always, More to Come

Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

Blog magazine for lovers of health, food, books, music, humour and life in general

Colline's Blog

a potpourri of thoughts and experiences

pensitivity101

An onion has many layers. So have I!

lynz real cooking

lynz real life

Darswords

Musings about Havenverse

From Cave Walls

The Journey Home

Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter

like mercury colliding...

...moments of unexpected clarity

G-Bears Blog

Real Life - Hard Facts !

All in a Day's Breath

Art, Love of Life, Philosophy, Writing, Spirituality

Kevin Parish

Poetry, lyrics and other words...

Claire Ladds

Crime and dark fiction author

adamdixonfiction

Short stories from a fiction addict