Today's #flashfiction #AGameOfChessWithMyConscience

“Tell my wife I loved her.”

Charles Kane, Citizen Kane* #quote

Today I journeyed to another universe where everything was exactly the same except Star Wars was never made. It was truly a depressing place. Anyway onto the flash fiction!

A Game Of Chess With My Conscience

         My conscience sat across the table from me, we started to play our game, his pieces black, mine white. He stood so tall, that when he leaned over the table he was still several inches higher than me. His head glistened, without any hair he managed to polished it to a sheen. His factory smoke black skin contrasted with his cloud white suit and silver tie. On his face rested foggy sunglasses rimmed with a rose-red metal. His hands had purple leather gloves and gold studded bracelets.

        I sat as short as a tombstone, and my skin as gray as one. My shirt was tattered, the words “Carpe Diem” printed on it, almost invisibly faded. My thin fingers fiddled with nervousness. I had no glasses to call my own, so I squinted, my eyes turning paper-thin.

       His pieces had a perfectly smooth shape, as they were made from glass, mine on the other hand, were old gnarled wood. Each turn he wrapped his strong fingers on his pieces, and on my own turns I wrapped my frail fingers around mine. As he made his moves he wore a smug smile with perfect teeth. On my turns I nervously bit my quivering lips.

       I was just about to take out one of his pawns when it transformed. It turned into a beggar pleading for change. The beggar cried, his stomach thin and growling from starvation. He had a thin dirt stained sheet wrapped around his body. I had wondered why at the base of his piece had the word “Charity” embossed on the side.

       I crushed that moral with one of my own pawns, which had the name “Greed” carved into its side. The beggar became flattened under my piece; his cries were now muffled beneath it.

      He took out my greed with a bishop called “Loyalty”. My greed turned into a tower of money, and his bishop my mother. Her side bulged with cancer, a doctor taking my wealth to perform surgery on her, removing her tumor. He had taken my greed off the table with that move.

A few turns later I took out my mother with my rook. A rook called “Bitterness”. Only last turn did my mother remove my name from her will. This is how I managed to take out his bishop, loyalty, with my bitterness.

         His knight had the text of the Commandment “Thou shall not steal.” on its side. That piece was very difficult to take out, until my knight, “Jealousy”, transformed into my brother. He had become rich on pure luck in the lottery. After that it became easy to take out his Commandment with my own jealousy.

         Now it was mid-game, and the clock just struck midnight. A fog of doubt in the room covered both me and my actions. But I was winning the game, I dominated most of the field, I had a greater number of pieces on the board.

         By this point in the game I transformed much like the pieces. For every piece I toppled I became a little taller. Every turn caused my shirt to become less and less tattered, slowly turning into the finest of cloth. My mentality had totally changed, I stop being nervous and became confident, firmly wrapped in my arrogance. Despite the fog I made all my decisions without regret, but each one caused me to flinch a little.
         My conscience had completely changed posture, going from leaning on the table, to sitting erect his hand cupping the bottom of his chin while he calculated his moves far more carefully than he had before. Sweat covered his skin like some sort of rash.

         No matter what morals he threw at me each turn, I took out the pieces with my own. The laws of society left the table one by one, and every time I became less phased by it. Every turn that passed my decisions started to take less and less time to make. Eventually I no longer needed my chair, and I stood up, filled with an immoral strength. The fog of doubt in the room had fully disappeared, I could see the table perfectly, and I didn’t need to squint any longer. I saw the state of the game, he had one-third the amount of pieces I had. My pieces stood in strategic positions creating a web of traps.  His lay scattered almost looking nauseous from their odd positions.

        Suddenly my conscience’s current posture changed completely. He stopped being nervous and unsure. He got out of his chair and stood like I did. All his sweat vanished and a cocky smile burst from his face. A muffled laugh forced its way out of his mouth. He made no attempt of bluffing. He clearly had realized something. For the first time in the entire match he spoke to me.

           “You’re very skilled.” he said sternly.

           “Thank you.” I responded.

           “That was not a compliment.” he replied as he sat back down. His eyes started to dance about the field, telling his brain information he needed for his master plan. I moved my rook forward, taking out his last pawn, “Lying” I believe it was. He laughed once again clapping his hands. I didn’t like this, whatever he was planning. At this point in the game I was confident I could outwit my conscience, but I feared whatever trick he had up his sleeve. No matter how hard I tried that smug smile wriggled its way inside me, twisting my guts.

          To my surprise he started to move his king stupidly towards my rook. I was now less afraid of his genius plan, and more curious about it. I saw no bluff, as chasing his king wouldn’t lead my pieces into any traps. The king just staggered forward like a drunken man.

         I decided I would just end the game and take his king with my rook and knight, checkmate I thought. But I couldn’t end it, I couldn’t move my piece and yell checkmate and proclaim victory over my conscience. Doing that was the only thing standing between me and total dominance over him. I became mute at that moment because that was the first time I ever took a close look at his king. The name written on its side was “Murder.” The piece became my wife. In order to win the game I would have to kill her.

         I moved a pawn away from his king uselessly. My conscience then moved his king one more space, then it became my turn again. I just kept running from his king turn after turn. He used its invincibility to trap my other pieces between his own.

         I panicked; he had quickly regained control of the board. I now knew for a fact how terrifyingly powerful my conscience was. I was only a few turns away from losing, and I had no plan of victory. He had defeated me; my wife his weapon against me. He knew I could not kill her. Or could I?

        I had only a few pieces left, but I did have him in check and one of my most powerful pieces on the board, my queen. By moving her I could win the game. And her name was the most unique on the board; she was named “Hatred.”

        I had to think of everything my wife had ever done to me. I ignored the good and focused on the bad. I saw her yelling at me for being late, while just the day before she took too long to cook dinner.  I remembered her losing the car keys, spending savings money on clothes and jewelry. And most of all, I brought to my focus to the divorce papers she left on the kitchen counter.

          I gathered all those thoughts and used them to make my move. This is how I used my hatred to checkmate and kill my wife; I crushed her under my queen. I had finally defeated my conscience.

        He started to laugh again, and not a mumbled one like before, but a full baritone laugh. He then disappeared in steps, his hue fading a shade at a time while he laughed louder and louder. He then exploded into a thousand little sparkles, reflections of the morals I defeated in our game.

        Then, as soon as I looked down at the board, I started to regret the whole thing. I felt no pride of victory, only shame. I had taken out all those beautiful glass pieces of his. It seemed almost every turn I destroyed a vital part of my self, as each moral I crushed was actually a scaffolding of my soul. With no morals to support myself I collapsed and became nothing.