As expected, I had a bloody welcoming party shortly after arriving on the coast of France. It didn’t take long for them to show themselves. I had barely even begun to get my bearimgs when over the hill, a bronze cross burned the reflection of the  falling sun into my eyes. Drums and trumpets and all echoed through the hills. They had sent a little army after me! I should have been flattered,  but…you know, I had more pressing business to attend to. And before you hear any different I was not hiding in that derelict barn, I was waiting to see just how many they had sent after me!
As it turned out there was only a hundred or so. So, no big deal! However, this lot being the God squad I had to be certain they only handled man made weapons. Swords and arrows can cut me, as I had recently found out, but no fatal blow could be struck. When I was younger I once had an accident. Whilst mucking out the stables I was kicked by a horse. Yeah sure that hurts but rarely kills, except, the exact moment that the bloody horse decided to kick me was at the exact same moment that my arm got wedged in the fencing around the door frame! My arm was torn clean from my body. I lay in shock and believing I was a dead boy still breathing, when the strangest thing happened. One of the monks approached and picked up my severed arm. I could still feel his touch!
I told him and he called for the medic. After hours of head scratching they decided to bandage my arm back onto my shoulder. Then all it took was time. A couple of week later I could throw a spade full of shit perfectly again, and not even a scar! That was when they knew I was different.
The crested the hill and presented themselves in two units as they descended into the valley by the barn.
A Bishop in robes of red rode at the helm, bearing the bronze cross. I let them come.
“We ‘ave you surrounded! Ze Pope ordures your surrenda!” Called the Bishop in red. The sun had begun to set. This was what I was waiting for.
“Put down your weapons, fuckers, and I’ll let you live to see another Sunday!”
Their response was raucous laughter followed by a barrage of rock throwing.  One came through the decaying thatch roof and landed a few feet away.
“As you can see, Monsieur Game, we ‘ave you out numbered. Giv-up! While you still can, eh!?”
I checked the horrizon, the sun had vanished from site. Now all that remained was a darkening blue. It was time.
“Here I come, fuckers!”


About Henry Game

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4 responses to “Sun-Day

  • hobo hippie

    you are very strange! hobo

    • henrygame

      Now, I believe there are different sorts of strange. There are strange people, and then there are ‘seriously-fucked-up-strange’ people. I hope I fall into the one that makes you least, aaaaahh…I mean, most comfortable.

  • field of thorns

    HG, “believing I was a dead boy still breathing”, wow, super human, or not even human! That would for sure make you feel less than human and very different, especially with the reattachment of your arm. Great line — “Now all that remained was a darkening blue.” Can’t wait to see what the fuckers will get!


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