The Chess Game
“This year we’re having a different Christmas,” my grandmother said as she moved her pawn to the side, capturing mine.
“Why did you do that?” I asked.
She pushed her glasses up and raised her eyebrows. “I had to, didn’t I?”
“You could have ignored it.” I sulked.
She chuckled. “And let you capture mine?”
“Why not? I’m only nine. Most of my friends can’t even play chess.”
“You’ll never learn if I let you win all the time. Anyway, it’s only a pawn.”
She was right, but I didn’t like being little. The grown-ups were all smarter than I was, and it really annoyed me.
“Come on, Tom, it’s your turn.”
I moved my knight. “So what’s new about this Christmas?” My grandmother always came up with great ideas for games and outings.
She showed me a picture of green fields and snow-covered hills. “I’m renting a cottage right here, for the weekend.”
My jaw dropped. It was in the middle of nowhere. “Are we all going?”
She moved her queen. “Of course! It’s Christmas. There’s a real log fire and plenty of hiking trails, and board games to play in the evenings!”
My parents would never agree to staying at such an isolated place. They were always working or going out with friends.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Don’t you like the idea?”
It would be nice to spend a few days alone with my parents and grandmother. That hadn’t happened in ages. “I think it’s a great idea, Granny!” I said as I captured her pawn with my knight.
“Pay attention!” she said as she captured my knight with her queen.
I sighed hoping she’d be as good at convincing my parents to stay at the cottage as she was at playing chess.
This piece of flash fiction was written in response to Sue Vincent’s weekly photo prompt. Join in or read other entries here!