Sacrificial Pawn

Fred laid out the chess pieces as he and his best friend Jimmy geared up to play. He dusted off the board with his wrinkled hand, and gestured for his friend to sit after lining up the last of the pawns. Jimmy moved his white pawn first and they played.

“Did you get the email about that prince struggling with his finances?” said Jimmy, his red curls bobbing as he moved. Never had the grey touched him.

“I did,” said Fred, rubbing his hirsute chin. “Rough world out there, even for royalty.”

Fred thought hard about his every move in chess. Jimmy had the talent of a pro, while he had the talent of a moron. The two were in perfect balance in that cosmic way where they weren’t in balance at all. Fred knew he had to sacrifice a pawn as he moved it. It would make space for his other pieces to attack.

"What cruel fate!" screamed the pawn as Jimmy knocked his bishop into it. “Why would you do this to me?!”

Fred and Jimmy flew from their seats. They scrambled, finding something to hold onto as their hearts nearly exploded.

The pawn continued its theatrics, despite the two men scurrying like frightened puppies. “You would sacrifice your best piece for so little an advantage?!”

“You’re not my best piece,” said Fred. He recovered himself through anger at the should-be-inanimate, talking object. “In fact, you’re the worst.”

The pawn burst into pawny tears and fell. He rolled a little on his circular base.

“Why are you talking to it?” said Jimmy. “We should call the police!”

“Yeah, great idea,” said the White Bishop. It brought out a bishopy cigar, the knight pulling out a lighter for him. He puffed. “Call and waste their time, lads. I’m sure the police will be thrilled when you tell them the pawn you sacrificed is crying. Murderers, the both of you.”

“It was a calculated move,” Fred reiterated. He wasn’t about to back down to chess pieces. “We all have to make sacrifices.”

“It’s all well and good, innit, when it’s not your life on the line,” said the Black Rook. “How could you be so callous?”

Jimmy bent close to see the mouths. They were tiny slits which moved as they spoke.

“What are you talking about?” said Fred. “He’ll be fine for the next game.”

Heads turned, be they human or chess pieces, and they all looked to the dead pawn. It was motionless in a pool of its own tears, crosses for eyes, never to walk the battlefield of chess again.

The pieces all saluted, the bishops gave the pawn a eulogy, and the knights bowed their horsey heads.

One of the other pawns dabbed its eyes. “He was two days away from retirement.” It blew its wooden nose. “He had a family, you know. Kids – millions of them. Wives – millions of them. How cruel life can be to someone so loved.”

Fred and Jimmy shared a look. In their eyes, they were able to blink a conversation.

“Should we pack up and head to the pub?”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

They swept the pieces back into the box – the protests and screams did nothing to stop them - and headed out for something strong to drink.