One for the road before we go back.

Have you ever listened to ice melting?
I have, and let me tell you, when you have just arrived at the supposed “New World” by way of Newfoundland, of course I have already told you, and you make the vessel fast aboard the docks, then stand there, as I did, hands on hips and look around, you will see what I saw, ice. Fucking mountainous and copious amounts of ice and snow.
For a moment I thought we had passed through a Bermuda-like portal and ended up in an icefucked parallel universe. As it happens that wasn’t too far from the truth.
We had blown off course, way way off course.
The Mcs were off mixing with the local Irish, this apparently, was the very first British colony. What a fucking farce!
The Empire, as it was, had now become a global nation.
Anyway, ice melting: it fizzes softly, and spits and cracks and hisses, gently…ever so soft – It really is – that was what I was faced with when I took stock of what was before me.
The Mcs however were definitely in their element. Shit, some of them didn’t come back.
The land of opportunity, bah!
Mutiny was more than a foreboding shadow in the dying light, it was almost tangible. To say the least the lads were not happy. Neither was I, but what is it they say about lemons? Suffice as to say we didn’t stop there long.
The ships were re provisioned with plenty of ice and fish and back on the water, back on my domain…ha!
South we travelled, not too far mind, promises must be kept. With warmer climates and less ice, much less ice, to be precise.
Our name? The company of the Unwanted, legendary pirates of old, yeah…”the company”, however short lived, soon arrived at the new city.
The king of the ocean became temporarily land bound, that was me, self titled king of course.
The real king of New York did not take kindly to sharing his blood soaked throne either.
Henry Game had to do what he does best: kill any bastard that gets in his way.
Except things were different over there compared to good ol’ England. Whereas back in the old country steel usually had the last laugh, over there, steel was more like the introductory statement, the icebreaker so to speak. What ensued was not for the faint hearted, but to be honest, I am not sure if I ever possessed one anyway, a heart that is. And one thing was for sure, still is really, Henry Game backs down from no man. Find someone who suggests otherwise and I will show my arse on the steps of Buckingham palace I swear it!
Anyway, I just wanted to give you one last regale, just so you know what is to come when we revisit this narrative, Plus it’s in my best interest to keep that intrigue of yours stoked.
Back to the Anarchist…


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17 responses to “One for the road before we go back.

  • Aquileana

    Powerful and eloquent writing…. Original approach on climate change.

    ¨Have you ever listened to ice melting?… South we travelled, not too far mind, promises must be kept. With warmer climates and less ice, much less ice, to be precise¨…

    I really liked it! … All the best to you. Aquileana ⭐

  • field of thorns

    HG, this is a very nice transition, creating a bridge to another part of the Henry Games Story.

    Henry is consistent no matter the year, or the era in history. “And one thing was for sure, still is really, Henry Game backs down from no man.” Henry is definitely Henry, and you’ve got to love him for that!

    I’m looking forward to here Henry takes us next with his adventures!


    • Henry Game

      Thanks Pippa!
      Henry will be Henry, that is one thing you can be certain of. I had decided to cut it short, I don’t know why now, I forget. But I thought this would be a good one to leave it on, for the time being of course.
      Back to the 20th century! Late 20th century, but of course you know this Pippa, not much gets past your bright mind.
      Thanks for commenting on this.

  • unbolt

    I can’t wait meeting with the Anarchist!

      • unbolt

        Aww… Mom is anarchy. Dad is a glass of port… and God is your grandfather, yes? WOW! What a lovely stemma!

      • Henry Game

        God is my grandaddy, as crazy as that sounds. Mom is anarchy? Not sure about that one, not sure if I understand the statement, could be an unfamiliar Americanism, not sure. Dad is a glass of port…hmmmm, making me work. Dad is Satan, is Satan seen as a glass of red potent, blood-like wine drink thing?? Maybe, but I must admit, again, this saying is new to me. Or maybe I just completely misunderstood the whole message. When Henry gets drunk, things don’t look right, some things anyway. Other things look better…beer goggles. Pray tell, what is this wicked riddle you have sprung upon me most just of literary mastery.

      • unbolt

        Henry… my dearest mean motherfucker… please, don’t forget one tiny zesty detail… I live on the dark side of the Moon. I’m not familiar with Americanisms very well. You’re absolutely correct! Than more Henry gets drunk, that more Henry understands a mysterious Slavic soul. My senseless and ruthless unbolted soul. Cheers!

      • Henry Game

        “Dearest mean motherfucker…”
        Ha! There’s an oxymoron for you.
        Slavic baked honey glazed apples, eaten alfresco, of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
        Mean through and through, that’s me.
        Your brother,

      • unbolt

        Hee-hee… ‘oxymoron’ is my middle name 😛
        Damn… my brother HG! What did you do?! I tried to hide my real relations with God… I didn’t want to embarrass my community… but now you revealed my truth.
        Well… come to me and let me hug you, my big brother, a grandson of God!

      • unbolt

        XOXOXO? Truly?!
        Oh, dear me… How disgusted cute you are, bro! =0-0=

  • charlypriest

    holy sh..t Henry, this was a novel, I will say that I did enjoy the read

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