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Samuel had been hiding since last Sunday.

He had decided he was sick and tired of flying around serenely. He was bored of ice white, apple white, glacier white, white-on-white. He needed a bit of colour in his life. And he was totally fed up of all the sweet, choral singing in the background. He needed noise, raised voices, arguments, drunken laughter and passion.

Of course, once he had slipped out the back door, he realised his mistake. It was cold down here, people couldn’t help pointing and laughing at him, one boy even called him a nutter and he had forgotten that down here, if he wanted to eat, he needed money, or to steal.

So, here he was, hiding behind a vast pillar in a spacious courtyard. And none of the angels here wanted to talk to him, nor did they move a muscle.

He wanted to go home.

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Here’s my latest entry into VisDare this week, the prompt run by the lovely Angela. A bit cheeky, but why not?