White Collar

Darkness followed light, that was all. Days, weeks, years – none of that held any meaning for me – I could have been squatting in that place for years. It could have been days. Light followed dark, that was all.
My borrowed robe must have grown bigger, I figured, as it hung loose from my bones. I didn’t give it a second thought for the longest of time. Although the wounds across my torso healed, the scars seemed to prickle and nip at me painfully. Like an unwanted reminder of something from before…something that did more than just existed like a curse, existed eternally and watched like a haunting as night followed day.
Occasionally, and I mean very occasionally, I should have said seldom, I heard the lively talk of mountain walkers as they passed the church before starting the infamous ‘Three Peaks’. I quite enjoyed listening to their optimism. I followed them as they started by the east corner, eventually making their way round to the south west. They followed the public footpath, I hugged the cold walls, barely even daring to breathe. I wanted to hear every last word. But something must have happened.  They stopped passing all together.
I returned to my haunting.
That was until the day I heard the key turn in the big red door at the entrance.
White light, sun light, spilled onto my filthy habitat. For a moment I felt embarrassed. I wondered what I had become.
A man walked in. He did not look like a monk, or any monk I could remember anyway. He wore a white collar on a black suit and stopped when he saw my tattered rags draped over my leather bound bones.
‘Ahhh, Henry, I assume?’ He questioned with a splendid Queens English accent.
I hopped to my feet and grabbed a sharpened bone, one I had made to catch and kill my next meal, but did not reply. Not sure if I remembered how to?
He left the door open as he carefully navigated over the dried out bones and rib cages of pigeons randomly dotted about. I realised he was coming straight for me. He did not seem afraid. I wondered if I should have been. Finally he reached me and held out a hand. I looked at it, thought about stabbing him. I waited.
‘Henry, everything is going to be alright. The Order has returned. I am the new Bishop. My name is Father Saxon.’ Still he held out his hand toward me. Still I thought about stabbing him but I let the bone drop to the stone floor and I placed my hand in his and let him shake it.
I saw the position of the sun through the open door and that was when I knew, it was midday.

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About Henry Game

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11 responses to “White Collar

  • field of thorns

    Ah, good for Henry, possibly some form of redemption in the form of Father Saxon and “The Order”? I like the description here — “Like an unwanted reminder of something from before…something that did more than just existed like a curse, existed eternally and watched like a haunting as night followed day.” Strong play on colors, “the big red door”, and “White light”, and “white collar on black suit”. A very interesting read, curious to see where this takes Henry.

    Pippa

    • Henry Game

      Thank you for your wonderful comment Pippa. The Order is a ‘secret society’ that hails from the place where I was discovered in that well. The Order of St Oswalds. I have written previous posts which uncover this hidden truth.
      Redemption? Redemption for Henry is always just outside of arms reach, but yet always still with sight. Like a carrot. Thanks Pippa,
      HG

  • charlypriest

    As always the writing is quite the unique one, gotta love it Henry. And you actually didn´t kill anybody in this post although this guy is a bishop and maybe he is a bit pissed off that you killed the pope once…..or maybe you are now redeemed.

    • Henry Game

      Hey thanks for that Chuck. I really appreciate your comments. How goes it?

      • charlypriest

        Going good, with a broken and 6 weeks with a cast and the leg up. Apart from that little mishap, it´s good. It´s even better the story as to how I dislocated the bone from the other bone and then did a 180 to the left side and now I have 8 screws to put it back together. That´s some story to tell one day.

      • Henry Game

        I’m all ears mi amigo!
        Sorry to hear about your accident though. But, you know that if it were Henry who had this horrific accident, he would still be attending his tap dancing class, yeah?

      • charlypriest

        Actually I am tap dancing, with one foot though, but that´s the new form of tap dancing. I´ll show you the moves one day

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