A Chequered Board

• Chanara Aberathna, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2021

Life is a chess game.

We are humble pawns, awaiting orders, every move destined to change our lives, permanently.

Two steps forward, eyes prying the edges of the board, awaiting the next move. A weaker pawn arrives, inexperienced but determined to prove its worthiness. You feel almost sorry for it, as your swift, strategic eyes meet theirs; small orbs holding a whirlwind of panic. Berating yourself, you look away. There is no place for emotion, only quick thinking and analysis will see you through to the end. Breath picking up, you face a bishop, whose smirk determines his path of destruction. You are furious that you will be defeated so hurriedly, so early. But there, your good friend swiftly steps forward, a small smile plastered to his face as he turns to face you. You keep a straight face, a smile was meaningless. Nonetheless, you are grateful. Waiting, you hear a small voice in your mind. It hopes that your comrade is destroyed, that you are saved from the embarrassment, the destruction. All that matters is that you survive. Of course, you agree.

Stillness. And then he turns, board screeching beneath his feet. Away from you. A sigh of relief. You watch defiantly, as he hurtles towards his victim, who stands firmly, determined to seem strong, although you see the terror in his eyes. He is your friend. Was your friend. Gulping the air, you shunt away a fleeting throb of pain. You cannot let others get in the way of your survival. Every once in a while, luck spares you. Despite the pain you see in the eyes of those about to be ruined, you look away, never willing to save those suffering, although many chances have come.

You see it fleetingly, a path has opened up on the side of the board. It is your destiny, opening like the heavens would to those succumbing to death. Heart beating furiously, you use all your moves to keep going, despite many dying behind you. So close, the end just before you, but someone obstructs your path. The pawn. The young one who faced you at the beginning of the game. You could destroy him. His eyes are wide, fearful, begging for a miracle. You halt at this innocence, this youthfulness, this fear. You cannot move, every muscle tense, awaiting your approval. You realise that you are afraid to harm this youthful soul, this inexperienced victim suffering beneath you. How can you destroy him? Your arm is raised, still. A flicker of relief appears in the young pawn’s eyes, just before your strike rains down upon him. Something breaks inside you then, forcing you to turn around, facing your comrades. Your eyes widen. A multitude of bodies lay destructed beneath your feet. The king too has fallen, no defenders to save him. You were too busy saving yourself, each act a selfish betrayal. You fall to your knees and you wonder.

Is this what life truly is?