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We slept beneath the sky, well, they did, I lay awake beneath the star spangled window, watching the universe flirt with the Earth, perpetually.
The Peacemaker sung and danced, apparently “guaranteeing” that it wouldn’t rain on us- but I wasn’t holding my breath, bloody good job really.
But, as I lay, watching, the sky remained splendidly clear.
Distant sighs of the tide did little to quell my anxious paranoia as I concentrated on my breathing, consciously drawing in each breath, consciously exhaling again. It was annoying and I wish I hadn’t started it. However, things being what they were, I did lie awake.
I could smell them before I saw them, the French, as they advanced on us, sneakily, through the network of Tippees. Their approach cowardly being smothered by the sounds of sporadic wailing and fires crackling from the Iroquois camp.
My crew remained hooked in slumber as I sat up, ready to raise the alarm…but I was already too late.
A dark flock of death rained down, quite gracefully even as the swishes and thuds landed, followed by the gasps and screams of my men, chorused by the unfortunate native women that had chosen to bunk down with them.
An arrow sunk through my calf setting my temper on fire as I rolled and sprang to my feet, snapping the tip off in the process.
That was when I knew just how fucked we all were.
The arrows were Iroquois, I confirmed this assumption as the first tomahawk lodged into my shoulder. I looked down at it, shaking my head. The pain hadn’t arrived yet, I decided to leave it exactly where it was as I ran, or rather, hobbled, my way across the killing field. My target: the Peacemaker, that fucking bastard.
French war cries rang out as the frog fuckers split through the line of crouched archers, swords aloft, charging on us as we writhed.
My men, or what few still remained, gurgled in the mud behind me, squirming like overturned woodlice.
Another tomahawk whistled past me, dangerously close to my other shoulder, as I witnessed the first unspeakable act from one the Iroquois.
One of the Mcs had managed to climb to his feet and bravely draw his weapon. He even managed to parry the French soilders clumbsy swing. I cheered silently as I watched him find his balance and poise to strike the flailing Frenchman dead, only he didn’t get the chance. Another tomahawk, identical to the one currently lodged in my shoulder struck him just above the knee, shockingly passing straight through fabric, flesh and bone in the process. As his leg was amputated I stopped, so did he.
I don’t know who was more surprised to be honest. Meanwhile the blood gushed out of his stump like a pressurised fountain as he hit the ground. The Frenchman turned to finish him off but after seeing his foes wound he continued on, leaving him to water the field in blood.
I suppose you think that was inhumane of him, right?
Yeah, that’s what I thought too, that was until the Peacemaker approached looking like a fucking skinny man-bird. The fucking vulture of evil.
I redirected my course as the bastard pinned the bleeding Mc, viscously, to the blood soaked grass with one of his bony knees.
He kneeled on the back of my man, my man! Leaning over his head, silver gleam catching in the moonlight.
I wasn’t quick enough to stop it.
Mc screamed in a way that I have never heard before, the very though of it still makes my hand shake.
The Peacemaker continued to crouch over his head, his scrawny arms thrashing in short controlled stabs while Mc gurgled out his hell for the whole world to hear.
Suddenly I realised what the Peacemaker was doing, but if course it was too late, Mcs hair and skin had been cut from his head and was flapping against the back of his neck. Yet still he screamed. They sure did make them Irish bastards tough.
The Peacemaker continued to cut and tear and cut and tear until the white of his skull shone dull white in the moonlight.
I was almost there, a few feet more and I would have the horrible cunt bleeding beneath my blade.
Mc’s screams were the last thing I heard that night as something heavy sunk into the side of my head, sapping my strength, killing my fire and sending me blind into the mud to be swallowed up in the brutal slaughter, along with the rest of my company.


About Henry Game

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31 responses to “Savage

  • Tony Single

    Haunt the bastards! This is gut wrenching, visceral. Nice work.

  • ~Michelle Cook

    Loved this scene! Your best one so far! I could picture everything in my mind as if I were watching it just as it happened. I can’t imagine how Henry Game will escape this one. I hope you will be okay. Some Peacemaker… sounds like Henry Game needs to teach him a lesson. Can’t wait for the next part! 😉

    • Henry Game

      I suppose I could not hope t receive a higher compliment. To write in a way that unlocks the readers imagination is all I have ever hoped for, reached for even.
      And yes, the Peacemaker…he deserves to die under extreme duress.
      Thanks for reading, the next part will coming soon. I try to write one a week. Sometimes I get carried away and write more, but other times I become bogged down. I will do my best to deliver the next part in this harrowing tale of Henry Game and the Americas.
      Thanks for reading my friend

      • ~Michelle Cook

        I am looking forward to reading the next part. I think it’s good that you usually only post once a week. It gives people time to read the story and also gives everyone something to look forward to. I have a hard time keeping up with bloggers that post daily and I feel bad that I can’t keep up with reading everything. The funny thing is… Henry Game actually appeared in one of my dreams a couple of nights ago. I guess your writing is making a lastly impression on me. Take care and have a good rest of your week. ~M

      • Henry Game

        Wow, this is fantastic. “Henry Game: the dream invader”
        I hope (in your dream) Henry was doing what he does best? Tell me, was I wearing a suit? Ha!
        Thank you for your wonderful comment. The Henry Game novel will be published sometime in the next 2-3 years. Who knows, maybe Henry will do a book signing tour, maybe he will even do America (seems most of my readers and followers are from the states).
        Thank you again for starting my Friday morning in the best possible way.

      • ~Michelle Cook

        Hmmm… well I am not sure where you are from, but in my dream, Henry Game was from Australia. Also, I couldn’t tell what he was wearing, as I was spying on him from the other side of a fence. All I could see was his face. That actually sounds like a good title for a book… the “Dream Invader.” I look forward to the novel and a book signing tour sounds like a great idea. Glad I could give you a good start to your day. I myself am getting ready to head off to dreamland soon. ~M

      • Henry Game

        Australia? WWWWWWHAT???
        Don’t tar me with that bloody sticky brush, jeeze! I dun some shit in my time but don’t ever call me Australian-shit. Them dingos are fucking loco essay!!

      • ~Michelle Cook

        Well… blame the dream maker. I don’t make this stuff up, I just see it as it is. Hopefully for your sake, you don’t end up in Australia. Who knows what the Peacemaker plans to do with you. 🙂

      • Henry Game

        Guess where Henry is right now?


      • ~Michelle Cook

        See… dreams really do come true! Did the Peacemaker bring you there or was this of your own doing? You’re not near a Shipyard are you?

  • charlypriest

    I knew the blood would come back, a tomahawk missle passing my you shoulder? You lucky bastard.
    So what now, what´s going to happen with this other crazy pacemaker ?

  • field of thorns

    HG, wow, a pretty grisly episode here! Wait, did Henry ever smoke a peace pipe? Maybe if he had insisted on the smoking of the peace pipe with the Peacemaker things might not have been so bloody! LOL! As always, looking forward to what’s going to happen next! Have a great weekend, and take good care.


    • Henry Game

      Henry hath toketh the pipe of peace, for sure. The Peacemaker was an oath braker, a hater, a semi professional in-line roller blader, a cheese grater, and a fucking waiter, not to mention he enjoyed reading the paper, and he used to say-t’ the mayor, who was a basketball player and a salt shaker, a creator, a semi retired vampire slayer who just happened to be on the way to Jamaica…
      I think that’s all I got t’ say to ya
      Have a g g g g g groooovy weekend Pipppppa

  • John

    I hope he lives, though I don’t expect he’d live well after this.

    • Henry Game

      Ah, yeah…well…Henry isn’t your typical fellow. All will be revealed, but let me tell you this: Henry cannot be killed by man made weapons. He can, however, be fucked up 😕

      • John

        Man-made, huh? So if an Iroquois just bludgeoned him with a good ol’ god-designed hunk of wood he could be felled!?

      • Henry Game

        Maybe if the Gods themselves forged it. Maybe there are a few things about me that you have not yet read. It seems, at least up to now, that any man made weapons cannot kill me, like, forever…but please believe that this is not just a cheap excuse to continue with narrative. It’s not just some easy escape route. Keep reading and you will discover many things about Henry Game.
        Thanks for the comments

  • Seafarrwide

    always a pleasure to read..’.A dark flock of death rained down, quite gracefully even as the swishes and thuds landed’ you are so good!

    • Henry Game

      You are way too generous with your compliments, but I thank you and long may they continue to shine down on me.
      I say what I see. This is the way of things. I may not be the most poetic or prosé with my scribbles, but I sure am literal. Thanks, from way over on the Golden coast

    • Henry Game

      Well sir, tis bloody I’ll give you that one!
      Not sure about brilliant. Never has anyone been quite so verbose, so superfluous with the sheer verbiage of accolades as you have been with this, succinctly poised, generously given comment…wow!
      I’m blown away…

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