Automobile

‘Thats ok, I’m driving.’ I looked at him skeptical.  Cars were rare, but people who were willing to drive nearly 250 miles, rarer still. I kept my mouth shut and waited by the curb with my bag packed, dawdling on the pavement in front of the fine establishment which I had existed in for somewhere close to six month.  The boy scurried away carrying one of my bags under his well dressed arm. When Grim said he would send for me, I didn’t imagine this.
The man behind the iron mask was most interested in my stuborness when it came to dying. “You seem to be most reluctant” were Grim’s exact words. This had preceeded the events to unfold when I would see myself swathed in fine linen and fed like a king. Oil. It had begun to grip the planet in its greasy grip. And I was one of the benefactors, for a time. 
Purring like a kitten a vehicle approached and came to an unusually smooth stop by the curb where I stood.
‘Mr Game, if you please’ he gestured to me from his driving position.  I was no automible fanatic but I recognised a Silver Ghost when I saw one. The pride of the North, people daydreamed about this exquisite machine, while I usually daydreamed about overcast skies, so long ago.
I placed my bag on the rear seat and climbed in along side my chauffeur.  Ha! I had a chauffeur. They would love this at the Order…no they wouldn’t.
‘So where exactly in London is Mr Iron mask?’ The lackey ignored the childish jibe as he forced the gear stick down.
‘Why, she’s at the Palace, of course!’
‘Pardon?’ I was shocked. But he didn’t reply to my question, instead he smiled at me through the side of his face while he kept his eyes on the cobbled road ahead.

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About Henry Game

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