Hurrah! I for one (of many!!) am so pleased this is back as it has been sorely missed.
Thank you Sue for resuming the challenge, but we all appreciate that health matters must come first.
Please check out Sue’s introductory post listing the small differences, some of which are below:
Each week, on a Thursday morning, I will post a photograph from my archive along with a prompt word.
The prompt runs from Thursday to Tuesday each week, so please submit your link by midnight (GMT) the following Tuesday (26th January).
Depending upon how I am feeling, I will still reblog some of the posts as they come in, though not as many as before and I will try to maintain a round-up post each week in which I will share a little bit about the previous week’s prompt, though this is the bit with which time and health may interfere, so please ensure you leave your link in the comments!
She saw him every day standing on the ridge looking down into the valley.
How she yearned to wave and approach him, but knew it was forbidden.
She had heard stories of course about lost sons, husbands, fathers, and how he represented those perhaps no longer of this earth.
It was an honour to be chosen for this task, one not to be taken up lightly as it required great sacrifice. Such as his had been.
It was a solitary life, the villagers bringing food and blankets under cover of darkness to the small dwelling that became his home.
He had no human contact, his only company the animals that visited for scraps, and the birds that sang their melodies of lament every day.
He was not to know that she was his daughter, had not been aware of her conception.
So every day he would take his place in all weathers, a sentinel and guardian of their tiny village, watching and waiting for those lost to return.