Have you given your most?
Can you look yourself in the eye?
I am the streak of self pity
And I will drag you down into the bottomless.
Can you do it now?
Do you have what it takes?
I will show you what happens to fear when left to fester.
You will become everything you loathe and I will watch and laugh and cry and give.
You will crawl before yourself and bleed to me.
Drink from the peasants cup you fool.
You traitor. You fucking pathetic leech.
You will only ever take with you what you manage to break off.
Your life is formed in rock.
You belong to sorrow.
I’m going to get you…

The words had been painted and splashed across my lovely, wooden, bedroom floor. I think you can guess what they had used as paint. My cleaner had been carefully arranged to look like she was ironing. It was very clever actually! They used the broom sticks, one end drove through her feet and the other splintered through her thighs. Her abdomen was propped up with the chord from the iron, whilst the iron itself, still smouldering, had burnt into her chest and left a nice neat triangle. She was propped like an eerie manikin in a home department store.
Fucking Illuminati! They loved their symbols. I just wanted to know how they had managed to find me and just who exactly they thought they were dealing with?
Poor old Maria, I turned the iron off at the switch. My apartment was a fucking mess. And what was worse, now I would have to hire a new cleaner!!
I retrieved the sulphuric acid from the cleaning cupboard and began to fill up the bath when a creaking alerted me to the presence of something in the spare bedroom. Two things shot through my mind simultaneously. First, why did I not check the fucking spare bedroom and second, who the fuck would be so stupid? I carefully put the acid down, I didn’t want to get any of that shit on me. The creaking stopped, I strained my ears, can I hear laughing? I flipped around and sent my boot crashing into the door and took it cleanly off the hinges before stammering backward in shock. For what I saw was me, or a reflection of me anyway. In the briefest of moments I thought it was the Leviathan returned. I thought…oh I don’t know. Henry Game doesn’t get spooked, I am the one who does the fucking spooking!! But I definitely heard laughing, didn’t I? Anyway, I had to shake myself to remember, Henry Game was gone. Now I was The Anarchist. The white mask of anarchy had been left over Maria’s face as a clear message. The message was brutal and clear. It was only going to get worse, but what was more, I was kind of excited about it…


About Henry Game

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15 responses to “Spooked

  • ~Michelle Cook

    If this is to be a book someday, I will definitely will be reading it with the lights on! I love your descriptions and hate them at the same time! Which I sure is what you’re aiming for. I started a book years ago that delves into the spiritual realm and every time I read your stuff, it reminds me that I need to finish it! I love your writing style. Keep writing! I missed you for awhile there and I’m glad to see you back. I have been taking a break myself and need some inspiration to continue. Thanks for giving me some inspiration today.

  • Henry Game

    This is one of the best comments I have ever received! Thank you for making my day. You have made Henry, ahhhh I mean The Anarchist, a very happy chappy!
    Thank you

  • charlypriest

    The first part, that poem. That was good, evil though, but very good.
    The rest…alway´s entertaining, though I´m probably going to curl up into a ball and go back to bed, I´ll check the room first and try to cry without making much noise.
    What about the idea of the other commentator, a book from Henry. That one I would spend the little money i have on it. Ever thought about writing a novel or novella or a book of short stories?

    • Henry Game

      Henry Game will be a book, already have around 30,000 words. But at the moment I am currently writing the second book in a trilogy I have been writing for the last 2 and a half years. So yeah, to answer your question it will be so. And for those who have been supportive and along the way, they will be sent ‘special editions’. Thanks Chuck. The first part, the poem, is a warning to the Anarchist, Henry cannot take credit for it. However, the man behind the curtain…well maybe he can. 😉

  • unbolt

    Среди ублюдков шел артист,
    В кожаном плаще – мертвый анархист.
    Крикнул он ‘Хой!’, челюсть долой.
    Трупов вел он за собой.

    Был на руке застывший fuck,
    Из кармана торчал пиратский флаг.
    Зомби всю ночь кричали ‘Хой!’
    Мы анархисты – народ не злой!

    (Король и Шут – Мертвый анархист)

    I love your future book already.
    I can bet it will be the great one.

    • Henry Game

      Thanks, I had to put the Russian into a translator, not sure if it lost some of its contextual meaning, but it seems to be about an anarchist uprising against the zombies of mass culture and the old fashioned patriarchal society? Is this right?

      • unbolt

        Almost! 😛

        It was a part of the song. An old wizard spilt his magical potion accidentally. It caused a resurrection on the old cemetery. Hordes of damned zombies rushed to destroy the town where they lived before. The dead anarchist was a leader of this foray 🙂

      • Henry Game

        So yeah, totally and completely incorrect. This is the beauty of Google translator.
        Thanks anyway, and the story sounds cool. Are you a Rusky yourself?

      • unbolt

        Oh, yeah! Google rulez! 😛
        No, I’m not Russian, I’m Ukrainian.
        But Russian is my second native language along with Ukrainian.

  • field of thorns

    HG, sound like Henry is just gearing up for a real battle with “Fucking Illuminati”. This is an interesting twist that Henry sees himself when he kicks in/off the door, wondering for a moment if it was the Leviathan, his brother, do I remember correctly? Just me, but I notice another interesting parallel between Maria and Henry. Maria’s face is covered with the white mask as if to change her identity as well as leaving a message, and Henry now needs to remind himself, that he is now “The Anarchist”, no longer Henry Game, thus wearing a different hat, or mask if you prefer.


  • Henry Game

    Yes you remember correctly, The Leviathan looker just like me, maybe my mind was playing tricks with me, maybe not?
    Yes poor ol’ Maria…she had been left as a very clear message, but I don’t want to give too much away. You are too clever Pippa, you see these things easily.
    I will have to be on my game to catch you cold.
    Thanks for your brilliant comments.

  • field of thorns

    Hg, I always look forward to what your story will reveal, and the wonderful unexpected surprises that you grace your readers with. So thank you!


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