the unteenth last

The sky was dark, stormy, a midnight blue, pierced by white, flashing, blinding thunderclouds. Almost as loud as the clapping of thunder was the smacking of the pieces, barely recognizable, on the stone board, if stone could be purple. From it came a light pulsating like a heartbeat. Underneath those noises, the hissing of the shadows in the stands. No stands. Metaphorical, of course. But they were watching. There were always some watching. Even when they couldn’t be seen. And in those times, the men saw them regardless. They were sitting. Moves were made slower. And in between those moves, the one with the blue eyes, you could barely see the color in this darkness, but the fact that you could see it at all, awed you with how bright it was, the one with the blue eyes folded his hands, and looked around him. He saw the world as it was, with the shadows, and their glowing eyes, things that others could not always see. The other one, he had his chin on his folded hands, elbows on the table, he stared ahead, past his opponent, he did not look around. You got the feeling that if he did, he would see just as much, if not more. His green eyes, also sparkled in the bare light, glowing like a cat’s. He stared into the distance, past his opponent, perhaps he was reliving something. Maybe he was thinking of the game. But it didn’t feel like it. A lot this was based on feelings. You could not shake them off. They hung over you like a thick fur coat. And dropping them might relieve the weight, but you needed it to keep you warm in these dark, dark times. Drop it, and you might freeze to death. He stared ahead, seeing something that you were only too acutely aware of your lack of intelligence to be able to see. He stared ahead, and the thunder raged all around. Fire had charred the surface of the earth, until there was nothing left to burn. Yet, this was a fire that did not quit. It was not normal. It was still smoldering here and there. Mellow now. Soon, it would rage, like the thunder. But for now, it had feasted enough. The air was dry, and arid. And yet, water sprinkled down, like some eerie piss contest between the gods above. No one believed in deities anymore. That old argument about how could a benevolent god let tragedy unfold upon the world? Well, you only believed it when it came home to roost. When tragedy was under your roof. And come home to roost, it had. The one with the blue eyes made his move. Green eyes yawned, and made his. Then they both sat still and thought. One thinking about his next move, the other thinking about how to counter it, and the first thinking about how to counter that. The game was still in the world, but it was soon coming to the point where it would be played entirely in the mind. Thunder cackled above in anticipation.