The Bastard of Bolton

Ok, so out on my own.  I hadn’t realised how much I had come to think of them as my family, again. Not a mistake I ever intend to repeat.
The year is 1913, and the world is charged with evil. Me chief amongst them, apparently.  The Order has packed up and gone to the United States of America. Apparently to re-connect with another, similar, sister-like Order that shipped out over there back when the land barrens were located over there to help colonise the ‘new world’.
Maybe that seed had come to fruition, because this fucking place…it was sick and rotting from the core.
Its fucking raining, to top it off. Out on my luck and deserted by the only people who ever, really knew me or at least where I came from, I left them behind me and crossed over the pennines to the red rose counties. I had found shelter in a disreputable drinking establishment, which of course, also offered whores and a great number of nefarious services to the bearer of the correct sum. I was not a punter. I had settled as a rogue trader. My speciality was bounty hunting, or rather making sure these people never got found again. That was until my fortunes changed and I got given a name that would eventually set me back on the correct path, I think. Well if not correct then at least one that pays better!
What? Don’t judge me, you don’t know what I’ve been through…or maybe you do. I’m bad and I fucking love it.
Thats me, Henry Game the bastard of Bolton.

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6 responses to “The Bastard of Bolton

  • sozsatire

    I do beg your pardon Henry, I thought this piece was going to be about the bloke next door who hails from Lancashire 😦
    On the bright side, this will, in all probability, be my last ever comment on WordPress. I’m getting the hell out you see 😀

    • henrygame

      Well Henry does not hail from anywhere in this dimension. But, after many of my previous deeds, and being totally without Kin, I picked up the name Bastard of Bolton whilst dwelling in that rain soaked misery of a town.
      And I am sorry to hear that you are leaving, when your posts are one of the few that I actually enjoy reading!
      I am honoured to be the recipient of your last comment.
      Fare well my friend, and look out for the Novel containing the ‘history’ of Henry Game, or rather his story.
      Although it will probably be a couple of years until I get around to it. Too much shit to do in the mean time, you know how it is. Take care

      • sozsatire

        I do indeed know how it is old horse. I seem to spend an inordinate amount of my time “doing shit” 🙂
        Yep I’m off to devote my risible talents to writing, editing and besmirching a perfectly respectable satirical magazine. The incestuous, mutual backslapping world of WordPress just isn’t for me I’m afraid old chap. I shall indeed keep an eye out on the bookstands for your opus magnum and I wish you every success with it my friend. I shall probably pop up on the blog to plug the mag from time to time so you haven’t quite seen the last of me. Still, it could be worse, you could be Olly Murs 😉

        All the very best Henry

        Clive

      • henrygame

        Just think of me as a hole. A big dark empty one, and you, you are the plug. Plug it buddy, plug away!
        Until the next time…

  • ellarwise

    Bolton? Where Wanderers get creamed? That’s a hole now. No wonder it’s raining… Nice to meet with you

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