so sad
It was the year 1955. An old man and a wee lad were walkin' round Central Park. They looked normal to everyone. Just a man and his grandson walking around the park. But the old man's life was far from normal. Back in the day, he was director of a prestigious chess club down in the Bronx with a pretty wife and a nice little boy. In 1941, the man had been drafted into World War II just as his son was almost fourteen. He fought bravely through the years and was there 'till the end. Then, the old man returned home to see his house occupied by another family. That's when he found out what happened. His chess club had been sold and converted into a jewelry store. His wife had been mugged and stabbed to death. His son had fallen into a state of depression and developed a gambling addiction. He had sold the family home and squandered the money at the hands of chess hustlers and was never seen again.
But the son left behind a little boy. A one year old child. One day, a local orphanage had contacted the old man and told him about his grandson. The old man's life suddenly had purpose again. He took the little boy and raised him up with the money the government had left him for his services. But one day, the little boy fell ill. The old man took the boy to the hospital where he was diagnosed with cancer. Cancer treatment was very expensive.
However, the old man loved the boy. He would do anything to get the money for the boy. But the old man had no marketable skills. He wasn't strong enough for labor, he wasn't fast enough to steal. He wasn't smart enough for white-collar work. Only thing the man had was his chess skills. That's when it hit him. He could play the hustlers for money.
Old man sat down at a table where a group of hustlers were waiting for him. Then the game began. Although a proficient player, the years of hardship had taken a great toll on the old man. His skills couldn't compete with the younger and faster hustler. They reached this position.
At this point, the old man knew he was losing. This hustler was outperforming him completely. But the old man was desperate.
"This money is for my grandson's medicine!" he croaked, tears of frustration leaking out of his eyes. A smile formed on the hustler's mouth that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Don't worry old timer," the hustler said, smiling, "I got your back."
And the hustler conceded his queen just like that, and a tear of relief rolled down the old man's eyes. The game continued on, but something wasn't right. The hustler was in an unusually good mood. Turns out the hustler had no intent of losing the game. So he walked away with all of the old man's money.
The next day, the old man had already killed himself. His body was found in a creek near the park.
The tragedy of this man was quickly forgotten. No one seemed to care. Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned to months. Months turned to years, until one night, the hustlers were closing up. By the time the last game finished, the park was nearly empty. Only a hustler remained, whistling as he was packing his bags. But then, someone appeared out of the darkness. A hooded man approached this hustler.
"Play for $10,000," the hooded man growled, approaching the hustler and pulling out a huge wad of cash. The hustler frowned. Only a master would be willing to gamble $10,000 on a game of chess. There was no way this hustler could win.
"I...got to go," he said quickly, "I'm tired and I don't have that much money-"
"Then play for your life," the hooded man growled, pulling out a gun.
"Alright man, chill!" the hustler yelled, "I'll play ya!"
The game began with the hustler playing black against the hooded man. The hustler looked around, hoping that a police, a tourist, or anyone else would show up. But no one did. As the game continued, the hustler grew more and more nervous. This opponent was better than any he had ever encountered.
Upon move 16, the hustler sighed. His time was almost out and the position was lost.
"I win," the hooded man chuckled.
"Why are you doing this?" the hustler said fearfully, sliding his bishop to g6 in a futile defense.
"Because you killed my grandfather," the hooded man growled, "So I'll return the favor."
The hooded man grasped the queen on h6, capturing the h7 pawn, before raising his gun.
"Revenge is sweet," he whispered, firing twice.
Progressant
Progressant
Apr 26, 2017
0
#2
The war started in 1939. He took his time.
Slow_pawn
Slow_pawn
Apr 26, 2017
0
#3
Not bad
MickinMD
MickinMD
Apr 26, 2017
0
#4
Progressant wrote:
The war started in 1939. He took his time.
The Americans didn't enter the war until December 7, 1941. But even the British people were calling it "The Phony War" until the German Blitz began in 1940.
In Winston Churchill's unequaled 6-book series, The Second World War, he writes (paraphrasing). "I awoke on the morning of December 8, 1941 to the sound of the news on the radio. They said something about the Japanese having attacked Pearl Harbor, in Hawaii, on the previous day. I immediately contacted Roosevelt and he said, 'Looks like we're in this together now.'
I smiled. Hitler was crushed! Mussolini was crushed! All that now remained was the proper application of overwhelming power."
Churchill considered that moment to be the day that the war became a World War.
I pointed that out to the History teachers at the high school where I taught science. They scowled and said, no it started on Sept. 1, 1939 with the invasion of Poland.
In any case, except defensively in Pacific islands, America didn't put any troops into the field until 1942. My father, a member of Darby's Rangers - the first U.S. special forces who were initially trained by the Scottish Black Watch, was one of the first Americans in combat in an American uniform in the European Theater, landing against military resistance in Oran, Algeria in November, 1942 and taking part in the first Ranger night raid at Sened Pass, Tunisia in February, 1943, then fighting in Sicily and mainland Italy.
Cherub_Enjel
Cherub_Enjel
Apr 26, 2017
0
#5
Beautiful.
Bobby-Fischers-Ghost
Bobby-Fischers-Ghost
Apr 26, 2017
0
#6
I recognize the first game as Byrne vs Fischer. Obviously you needed to steal something creative in order to hide the unoriginality of your story.
iKeemstar
iKeemstar
Apr 26, 2017
0
#7
The ghost of the legendary Bobby Fischer with 1400 blitz rating?
I guess dying takes out a large portion of your skill...
Bobby-Fischers-Ghost
Bobby-Fischers-Ghost
Apr 26, 2017
0
#8
Sure, let's change the issue to my skill instead ofhe fact that you stole games and put them into your shoddy literary work without proper acknowledgement.
iKeemstar
iKeemstar
Apr 26, 2017
0
#9
First of all, it's a "topic" not an issue. Second of all, this is clearly a joke.
iKeemstar
iKeemstar
Apr 26, 2017
0
#10
Learn how to take one.
Slow_pawn
Slow_pawn
Apr 26, 2017
0
#11
Bobby-Fischers-Ghost wrote:
I recognize the first game as Byrne vs Fischer. Obviously you needed to steal something creative in order to hide the unoriginality of your story.
I respect the effort of someone that takes the time to write a short story like this. I didn't look at the games really. Didn't need to to get the gist of the story.
kinglysac
kinglysac
Apr 26, 2017
0
#12
I'm going to read the OP later
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