The Return - WWBH Short Story

 19^th November 2013

They’ve changed it up this week and given us two photos instead of one photo and five words. The two photos must connect in some way. The other rules still apply - you have until next Tuesday night to submit your link and you have a 500 word limit!

So, here are the rules again -

1) Include both of the photos in your story in some way.

2) Keep your word count 500 words or less.

3) You have until next Tuesday to link up (leave a comment if you don't know how! We'll help you out!)

4) Link up with your blog hostess (Nicole, Carrie, Tena or Leanne)

5) Have fun, don’t stress, let those creative juices flow.

And here are the TWO photos you will be using this week -

Photo # 1 via Flickr

 

Photo # 2 via Flickr

The Return

Late at night the street light cast an unearthly orange glow on the road below.  Granddad looked out of the door of his flat shivering slightly at the damp and dank weather conditions.  Getting older was a bother when you couldn't sleep.  He thought having his grandson, Colin, to stay with him after the breakup of his relationship would help give some structure to his days and nights but Colin hadn't returned home yet from spending an evening with his ex-girlfriend.

Now that was a fine kettle of fish, first of all she tells him he has to leave; she doesn't want him there anymore.  She tells him she still loves him but she is not ‘in love’ with him.  His grandson doesn't know where he stands with all these mixed messages his ex is sending his way.  

Then the evening goes wrong, Colin phrases a sentence in the wrong way and she is now desperate to have him leave her alone (again).  Granddad only hopes that he will ride that motorbike of his safely back through the dark roads and arrive home safely. 

The door closes softly, whispers on its latch and then catches securely.  Granddad moves slowly to the living room holding on to the edges of furniture as he makes his way back to his bedroom.  

He was getting old, osteoarthritis gave him gyp most days and a damp night like tonight didn’t help matters.  A nice cup of tea and a couple of painkillers would help and pass another half an hour while he waited to hear the sound of Colin’s motorbike engine slowing chugging up the hill. 

Eventually Granddad creaked his way up the stairs, past his grandson’s still empty room, trying to shrug off a feeling of foreboding that all was not right.  He sat on the edge of his bed, his eye drawn to the antique chest of drawers, one drawer was slightly open, piquing his curiosity although he knew every item contained therein.

He kept promising himself he would rejuvenate this piece of wood, French polish it with loving care, it had been his wife’s pride and joy, her place to keep knick-knacks and miscellaneous items.  Eileen was no longer here to share his life; he still missed her every minute of every day even though two years had passed by.  

He pulled the drawer out slightly further and reached in; his gnarled fingers enfolded themselves around a picture frame.  Retrieving it from the drawer he stared at the photograph.  The picture showed him and Eileen on their honeymoon more than 60 years ago. She smiled at him through the magic and power of black and white imagery.  

Charles felt a great sense of relief wash over him as he heard his grandson’s key in the lock, realising he had pushed his motorbike up the hill in order not to disturb the neighbours late at night. 

He was a very considerate grandson. 

Word count: 492