Post by Castle Court Jester on Oct 12, 2023 1:28:52 GMT -6
Checkmate
“You cannot know the time when I will come. But they will know when comes the time
you leave.”
I sat, focusing on the chess board between us, studying his last move while considering
my own.
“I want to go out. I will go out in such a way that can never be forgotten.”
It is early. It is late. It does not really matter. Each night or morning, however you want
to look at it my old friend and I sit over hot, chamomile tea shooting the bullshit while
playing chess.
“My friend, do you know I am so terrified of you?”
“Yes.”
'I know you do,' I think to myself looking at him.
“I come to you a little more with the passing of every day,” I say moving a rook.
“Yes. Yes you do,” he says. “All do so.”
“But you never let me cross.”
“No. Not yet,” he says, looking up at me from the board, eyes clouded over with cataracts.
“Why?” I ask, getting up to fix another tea. He contemplates his move.
“You know why I do not take you now. Bishop takes knight.”
“And yet I wish you would but I cannot go yet. I know I must wait and I shall if only for them.”
“Yes,” he replies, his dry, leathery-like lips cracking into a smile, again looking at me with those mysterious eyes, foggy with worlds upon worlds spinning in them.
“And then you shall take me?” I ask, looking away from those ancient eyes and stirring my tea.
“You cannot know that time,” he says. “Your move.”
My mind comes back to the game.
“You cheat,” I say, looking up at him.
He cackles. It sounds like meteors crashing into a moon.
“Never. It is you who cheats me time after time.”
“But I do not want to,” I say moving a bishop and taking a pawn. “It is you who allows for it and for what?”
He looks up at me with a gentle smile. He moves his queen.
“Checkmate.”
--msl2023
“You cannot know the time when I will come. But they will know when comes the time
you leave.”
I sat, focusing on the chess board between us, studying his last move while considering
my own.
“I want to go out. I will go out in such a way that can never be forgotten.”
It is early. It is late. It does not really matter. Each night or morning, however you want
to look at it my old friend and I sit over hot, chamomile tea shooting the bullshit while
playing chess.
“My friend, do you know I am so terrified of you?”
“Yes.”
'I know you do,' I think to myself looking at him.
“I come to you a little more with the passing of every day,” I say moving a rook.
“Yes. Yes you do,” he says. “All do so.”
“But you never let me cross.”
“No. Not yet,” he says, looking up at me from the board, eyes clouded over with cataracts.
“Why?” I ask, getting up to fix another tea. He contemplates his move.
“You know why I do not take you now. Bishop takes knight.”
“And yet I wish you would but I cannot go yet. I know I must wait and I shall if only for them.”
“Yes,” he replies, his dry, leathery-like lips cracking into a smile, again looking at me with those mysterious eyes, foggy with worlds upon worlds spinning in them.
“And then you shall take me?” I ask, looking away from those ancient eyes and stirring my tea.
“You cannot know that time,” he says. “Your move.”
My mind comes back to the game.
“You cheat,” I say, looking up at him.
He cackles. It sounds like meteors crashing into a moon.
“Never. It is you who cheats me time after time.”
“But I do not want to,” I say moving a bishop and taking a pawn. “It is you who allows for it and for what?”
He looks up at me with a gentle smile. He moves his queen.
“Checkmate.”
--msl2023
